Dark Reflections
by Raven Dragonclaw
Summary: Maia appears to be the normal, average Slytherin. But her father has come back. The Dark Lord has a plan for his daughter: lure Harry Potter into his hands. These are Maia's thoughts about the whole arrangement. She really isn't too pleased about it.
1. Maia Christine Knight

Disclaimer:  I only own Maia, any original characters, and the plot.  

***

This idea came to me while reading "Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit" and also by reading several Mary-Sue classification stories out there.  So, I thought, why don't I do one about Voldemort's daughter?  You know the cliché, she has to seduce Harry to get him to Voldemort.  You know what I'm talking about.  Except, Maia is…herself.  I hope you like her character.  There is some language, as this is how Maia is.  This will contain some Order of the Phoenix spoilers, as it follows it.  Hope you enjoy.

I do have a canon sixth year story planned for later, once I start and finish the Elemental series, but this isn't it.  This is just a random idea that came to me that I had to take down.

Let me know if I should continue or not.  Note that it most likely won't be updated as much due to time and fic restraints.

**This is not connected in anyway to Elemental Genesis.  By the way, the next chapter ('Shadows of Silver') is up on that story, for those that don't know.  It has replaced the review page.  _Contains Order of the Phoenix spoilers._**__

**~**Raven Dragonclaw

***

Chapter One:  Maia Christine Knight, She-Who-Is-Very-Cynical

          I have decided to keep a notebook, to which my deepest secrets and the events of my day are spread out on white lined paper.  A notebook.  Not parchment.  Writing on those blasted rolls is bad enough for classes every day; I don't need them for this.  This thing has a charm on it to prevent anyone other than myself from reading it, so ha!  I won't be blackmailed.  

          Why do I care about this?

          Simple.  I am a Slytherin.  I live with _other_ Slytherins.

          I hope you're seeing the connection here.  

          If not, then you are incredibly stupid.

          My full name is Maia Christine Knight.  It should be Maia Christine Riddle, but I was given my mother's maiden name.  'Riddle' is too much of a sign that I'm connected to the Dark Lord Voldemort himself.

          How am I connected?

          Simple.  I'm his daughter.

          Yes, I am the spawn of a homicidal, insane maniac striving for domination of the free world and trying to achieve immortality.

          Can you feel my pride?

          …Sarcasm must be very hard to get across on paper.  Note to self:  must work on that.

          No one really knows about this since my existence has been kept secret for reasons I really don't know.  Make sure the Slytherin line continues to endure?  Maybe.  I'm certainly not talking.  I have an education to pursue and bragging that I'm Voldemort's daughter isn't exactly the smart thing to do.

          Yes, I say and write his name.  Though he prefers that I call him either 'Dad' or 'Father'.  He likes me, for some odd reason.  I don't know why.  I'm cynical and I 'have a mouth'.  When I demonstrate such traits, he just laughs or gives me this warning look.  I'm not sure whether other parents have similar looks since Dad doesn't exactly have a normal face.

          Anyway, my mother was Gloria Knight.  She was a Ravenclaw here many years ago.  I really don't remember her.  She died when I was only one, after all.  I've seen pictures of her though.  And heard stories.  She had perfect long gold blonde hair, baby blue eyes, a pert nose, and rather slight figure.  I won't go into the stories about her.  They aren't actually _stories_, I've just noticed the older men that Bradley is friends with give each other this "knowing" look when they find out I'm her daughter.  

          I hope you can understand what I'm implying.

          She wasn't the studious type (checked her in the Hogwarts records, she barely passed every class).  But apparently, was very popular with everyone.  Especially with guys, apparently.  A pureblood, with enough money to squander on getting custom-made Hogwarts robes specially made for her.  

          Moving on.  From what I had gleaned from Bradley – which wasn't much – the whole reason I exist is because my mother wanted to save her hide instead of dying a noble death fighting against the madman that is my father.

          Oh the joy.

          I was born in April nine months later.  The celebration of my birth consisted of the mass murder of three muggle towns and the crew of a tugboat.

          Yes, a tugboat.

          Sometimes, I think to myself:  why not a cruise ship, you cheap asses?!

          It's a really random thought, I know.

          Back to my mother.  A few months before my father's "downfall" at the hands of one Harry Potter, my mother was discovered writing letters to an old school friend of hers.  You see, she was confined to this huge house in Wales.  Dad automatically assumed that she was passing on information to the Light side.

          I'm reminded painfully of those Star Wars movies that Bradley is obsessed with.

          The truth was that she was inviting the guy over for a "friendly" visit.  How do I know this?  I read the letters.  I was subsequently disgusted.  

          I know I get off tangent a lot.  This is a fault of mine that you, the inanimate notebook, must up with.

          Tough luck for you.

          And I won't even go into the fact that I'm treating you as if you were alive.  I could just say that Dad rubbed off on me.

          Ha.

          The house in Wales was near the coast.  Actually, _very_ close to the coast.  There was a fifty-foot high cliff just about twenty feet from the house.  At the bottom:  jagged rocks like you wouldn't believe.  I know because I live there.  And Bradley always had to drag me away from looking over the edge.

          I was a curious child.

          Dad gave her a choice.  I don't see how it was much of a choice.  Both would lead to her demise.  She could either die painlessly in a duel by Avada Kedavra…

          …Or she could jump of the cliff.

          Needless to say, it was a **long** drop.

          Ravenclaw intelligence at its peak?  

          Then, Dad went and got himself disembodied by Harry Potter on Halloween that year.

          I didn't care much then.  I was only one at the time and I doubt he would have taken me trick-or-treating, anyway.  Though if he did, I bet people would compliment the "realism" of his "costume".

          So, that is how I never knew my mother and father when I was growing up.  By the way, I _do not_ look a thing like my dear deceased mother.  According to Bradley and confirmed by my father, I take after his side.  More specifically, I am practically a clone of his mother, my grandmother.  I have unremarkable dark brown hair (grown a little past my shoulders) that has the tendency to curl when wet and frizz in hot weather.  My eyes are light brown.  I've been told that they look amber in some lights, but I think that those who told me such were just brownnosing.  I'm at a decent height at 5'4.  And I'm probably only going to grow another inch before I reach my adult height (Celesta Arsenys-Riddle, my grandmother, was 5'5).  

          The sad thing is, I'm even more…voluptuous (it sounds wrong even as I write it) than even my mother was when she was an adult.  Though I did mention she had a very slight figure.

          Family trait, if I look at my grandmother.  I have long legs and curvy hips that can make me quite clumsy at times.  Also I possess a larger…chest than most of the girls in my year.  I often wonder to myself why I had to mature so quickly.  It makes buying robes and clothing slightly more difficult than it should be for the average teenager.

          Well, at least I'm not flat.  But that's beside the point.

          I'm not fat, but I'm not stick thin.  I pride myself on keeping a **reasonable** figure.  I don't look androgynous like those who starve themselves nor am I fat like those who eat too much.  I know because of the girls in my dorm.  I'll mention them later.

          I live with Bradley Kincaid, a Death Eater assigned to keep an eye on my mother when she was alive and to be my own personal bodyguard.  He isn't that bad.  I see him much like an older brother.  He even sort of looks like me.  We both have dark brown hair and brown eyes.  Otherwise, he's pretty normal looking, though he's dated several pureblood girls.  Not many though, want to take a guy who is also caring for the daughter of the Dark Lord.

          Personally, I can't blame them.

          He's been caring for me ever since my mother died and Dad was put out of the picture.  I can't say I was mistreated.  I grew up like any respectable, but not uber-rich, pureblood girl.  Though Bradley did have an obsession with a Muggle device called a television.  I know about it since I take Muggle Studies.  They aren't so bad.  Candy, television, radio, and movies are Muggles' redeeming traits.  Though I'm not too sure about people called "dentists".  Unfortunately, Dad blew up the television as soon as he came to the house this summer.  Which was a shame.  I was watching a good show called "The Office" at the time.  Through the combined persuasion of Bradley and myself, we managed to get him to repair it.  No doubt hearing the Muggles voice their panic and concern over the various disappearances and murders occurring throughout the country would feed his ego.

          I am a genius.

          I spend most of the year at Hogwarts, though I usually leave for the holidays.  I was sorted into a Slytherin and I will be going into my sixth year in September.  I'm amazed that I survived this year with Umbridge and all.  A real cow, that one is.  I was pleased to hear what Potter and Granger did at the end of the year.  All I know about it is that it involved a giant and a herd of angry centaurs.  But no one suspected that I was the one who hung castanets around the Infirmary (with open windows) just for payback.

          You see, the words still engraved on my hand haven't sunk in yet.  For I will continue to "cause to trouble".

          I am part of Slytherin house, whose head is the enigmatic (supposedly a sex god) Professor Snape.  Personally, I don't see it.  I think that you, as a notebook, are very lucky.  You don't have to see the older girls practically throw themselves at him.  It's at these times that I think he's blind.  He certainly seems to have a seeing problem.  Like in Potions class, when Greg Goyle causes a mini-apocalypse and is given an A.

          I would see it if Greg had somehow managed to maim some Gryffindors while doing so, but it usually isn't.

          I share my dorm room with three other girls:  Millicent Bulstrode, Cordelia Flemming, and Pansy Parkinson.  I am thankfully given space by all three of them and they _attempt_ (key word there) not to get me annoyed.  Millicent isn't that bad.  She's rather quiet and is an okay student.  However, I think she wants to become a professional wrestler.  Where does she get the muscle, you ask?  There's practically a gym in our dorm.  I sometimes use the equipment myself, with her permission.  Pansy is tolerable.  The only thing I hold against her is her obsession with Draco Malfoy.  In addition to a gym, we have a veritable shrine to the blonde aristocrat.  Cordelia is one of those girls who you should **never** truston any account.  The entire school will eventually know anything you said to her in a matter of hours.  I could do without the simpering, doll-like voice.  I cringe even at the thought of it.  

          The boys aren't that bad.  Draco Malfoy, of course, is one of them.  I particularly don't like him too much.  Too arrogant.  Then again, I shouldn't be talking.  But the clincher was last term.  He practically became Umbridge's pet!  Not a good thing in my book.  Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle are sometimes good to talk to, though their conversations are invariably on the topic of food.  They always do anything Malfoy orders them to do, which is sad in my opinion.  Theodore Nott is an okay guy.  You could accurately call him my best friend.  Theo's on an equal academic level as I am and always knows what is going on at Hogwarts.  He knew about Potter's little defense club before even Malfoy and before Marietta Edgecombe tattled.  Blaise Zabini is also a nice guy.  Odd though.  He always says really _random_ things.  More than I do, which is amazing fact in itself.

          I take the usual classes of a Hogwarts student.  I do outstanding work in most of them.  I checked my average and I'm on par with the know-it-all Gryffindor Hermione Granger and a great deal of Ravenclaws.  Why am I not recognized?  Simple.  I don't want to be.  Sure I know the answer, but its typical House discrimination in almost every class.  The blasted teachers never call on me.  I tried to get noticed in my first year, but eventually just gave up.  Slytherins, evidently, aren't supposed to be academically excellent.  I usually sit in the back as well, since I have a tendency to daydream.  So I'm not surprised if most of the houses didn't know my name.  The main thing that makes sure the teachers don't forget me is my homework.  Unfortunately for the rest of the student body, my essays ruin the grading curve even more so than Granger's.  Point for me!

          I'm average in Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration.  History of Magic and Charms are easily my best subjects.  Theo is horrible at these, but he helps in my 'average' subjects.  It's a good trade off since he's good at them.  I'm doing well in Muggle Studies, which isn't that bad a class.  When my father blew a fuse after finding out about this, I calmly explained that I was 'getting to know the enemy'.  He then just gave me this proud smile.  Honestly, getting to know the enemy?  Really!  Though he _did _sort of hint for me to find out about Muggle bombs.  

          I, however, absolutely **hate** Arithmancy.  I wonder why I took the damned subject in the first place.  I hate math and numbers.  Arithmancy is math and numbers.  What in the name of bloody fiery hell was I thinking when I chose that as my elective?!

          It could be that I didn't want to take easy subjects like Divination (cough*fake!*cough) or Care of Magical Creatures (animals like me too much for my liking.  Though I like snakes.).  Either that or I was somehow drunk.

          I think it was the former.

          Still, I hate taking the class.  But I'm not dropping it!  Oh no, too much pride there.  Hate it though.  Thank goodness for Blaise.  He isn't the best in the subject, but he understands most of it.

          My troubles began at the end of fourth year.  Dad was back in a body.  Did I believe Potter?  Of course.  I wouldn't put it past Dad.  Bradley was jumping around all giddy that summer anyway.  He didn't contact us though.  Actually, I don't think he remembered that he even had a daughter.  I was glad of this.  I had no intention of getting involved.  Besides, I was pissed at Umbridge (may she rot in hell) at the time.

          Well, he apparently remembered me this summer.  Blasted right through the door, all fire and brimstone.  At the time, I was lying on the couch, alternately writing my [brilliant] History of Magic essay and watching the television.  He consequently blew up the television, stood in front of me and commenced a staring contest that lasted a good ten minutes until Bradley arrived (he was taking a shower).  It was a pity, for I was winning and nearly had the nearby fireplace poker in my hands.

          "My Lord," he said and kneeled at my dear father's black robes, kissing its hem.  I raised an eyebrow at this.  You see, I hadn't connected him to 'Father' yet.  It's not like there are statues or pictures of him.  I just thought he was some psycho with a staring problem who was soon going to get beamed in the head by the previously mentioned poker by i.e. me.

          Maybe it was lucky that Bradley interrupted.  I probably would've gotten killed for doing that.  I seriously doubt anyone would view that as funny.  Well, maybe Dumbledore.  But the old coot was off his rocker anyway.

          "Kincaid," said He-Who-Should-Be-Killed-For-Blowing-Up-The-Television-While-I-Was-Watching, in a slithery voice.  Remember how I hated Cordelia's voice?  Yeah.  High-pitched.  "I suppose things have been going well?"

          "Yes, my Lord.  Her ladyship has been kept safe."

          Me, a lady?  Excuse me while I wonder how in the name of Morgaine can I be a lady.

          "I see," Bradley's Lord (I was still very oblivious at the time and my mind wasn't exactly focused.  I had been doing a History of Magic essay, for Pete's sake!) commented.  "But the television?"

          Bradley tried to stammer an excuse, but fell silent when he couldn't think of one.  The guy then turned to me.  "So, you are Maia…"

          I was pissed.  Guy comes in (ruins the door), blows up television, stares at me for ten minutes, and then acts as if he owns the place.  Bradley wasn't helping by encouraging that.  "Yes, I am _Maia_.  I would say, 'so, you're…' et cetera, et cetera, as well.  But, you see, I don't know you.  Care to enlighten me?"  I felt I could say it anyway, since I now was in full possession of the poker.  

          I could hear a slap from where Bradley was.  He does that a lot, slapping his hand against his forehead.  However, the psycho stranger just gave me this strange smile and said, "Confidence.  I like that.  You've done well, Kincaid."  He turned back to me.  "Then I will enlighten you.  I happen to be your father."

          I dropped the poker.

          On a rat that was scuttling by.

          Which consequently turned into a person.

          Who was consequently kicked in a very sensitive spot by an alarmed and surprised me.

          Bradley was shocked and just didn't know what to do.

          My father had just laughed.

          What is the world coming to?

          In the end, things got sorted out.  My father was going to be staying with us (yay.), as would his servant (the guy I had kicked).  He wanted to 'get to know me'.  I think he was just feeling guilty.  Look at his father.  So, now I will be subjected to father-daughter bonding.  Do you feel my enthusiasm?

          Also, I was asked to do something for him during the school year.

          It wasn't as if I had a choice in the matter.

          I was apparently supposed to seduce Harry Potter and deliver him to my father, who would then kill him.

          This had slightly shocked me.  I'm not one to attract any attention, much else a guy's.  Second, it would be odd.  He's a _Gryffindor_.  I'm a _Slytherin_.  The two don't mix.  Also, the guy isn't exactly cute or anything.  He's scrawny, short, usually morose, and has a tendency to be in extremely dangerous, suicidal situations.

          Yeah.  You see where I'm getting at?

          I mentioned as such.  I might as well be honest with my father, after all.  If he has a problem with it, too bad.  That's me.  All he told me was that I would have to use my Slytherin cunning and that "arrangements" were going to be made for me to 'attract attention'.  Also, he gave this look.  I can only assume that my father was much like Potter when he was young.

          Scary.

          And that is what's going on now.  I'll find out who will be helping me 'attract attention' soon.

          I have a bad feeling about this.

          Then again, I am a pessimist.

          ~Maia.


	2. Somewhere Over the Rainbow Sundae

**Note:**  A reviewer asked if I was giving up on Elemental Genesis.  To answer the question, no I'm not.  This is just random musing and insanity on my part that I needed to get out.  Maia is a suitable outlet for this.  Genesis and its sequel will be continued, just not as frequently updated as before (blasted school).  

~Raven Dragonclaw

************

Chapter Two:  Somewhere Over the Rainbow Sundae 

            I am sickened!

            I am disgusted!

            I am mortified and indignant beyond belief!

            You wouldn't **believe **what my father had 'planned' for me.  Remember I mentioned that he would make arrangements so that I would attract the attention of boys, specifically Harry Potter?  I had an idea of what he was plotting.  It was a vague idea.  A very vague idea because I didn't think that he would do anything drastic.

            Well apparently, I was wrong.  He did do something drastic.  And I'm obviously not very happy about it.  

            What horrible torture did they inflict on me?

            It's simple, really.

            I received a makeover.

            Yippee.

            Am I supposed to be happy at that?  Thrilled?  I thought I looked fine on my own, thank you very much!  So I wasn't a supermodel, big deal.  And looks aren't everything!  Look at Cho Chang!  From what I had heard on the rumor mill last year (Cordelia wouldn't shut up!), she was going around crying in bathrooms and randomly kissing guys.  Seriously!  I know that she was devastated about the death of Cedric Diggory.  Even I had to admit that he was all right – for a Hufflepuff.  She was grieving.  Yeah.  But that doesn't explain her behavior.  We grieve, we move on.  And I doubt that Diggory would want someone to be upset like that all the time.  She was supposedly going out with Michael Corner, some Ravenclaw.  Good luck to him!

            But back on topic.  The two people assigned to making this makeover:  Bellatrix Lestrange and that guy who I kicked.  Dad calls him 'Wormtail'.  I won't deny that there was a struggle, involving several blows and a lot of insults.  In the end, I had to be restrained to a chair.

            Be aware that if I were allowed to use magic during the summer, then I would've managed to escape.

            The Ministry of Magic in 1254 should rot in hell for placing restrictions on underage wizardry!  Damn Peter Büvié (Minister of Magic at the time)!  But I am happy to say that I had given Bellatrix an absolutely _beautiful_ black eye and Wormtail had to resort to stuffing tissue up his nose to stop the bleeding.

            It was a horrible process.  From what I had experienced, I have divided a makeover into these steps:  scrubbing to death or 'cleansing' as they called it, conditioning, the actual 'making up', and then the primping.  I objected to all the steps.  When they were done trying to kill me, Dad gave me a funny look that I really couldn't decipher.  That's the bad part about having a father who has a face resembling that of a snake.  I found out later on my own that I looked horrible.  Well, that's what I think.  And several others shared the same opinion.  The woman at the salon I went to said the person who put the make-up on must have been blind in one eye and have cataracts in the other.  It was supposedly too "oldish-looking" and "dark" for my face.  Not to mention they nearly butchered my hair.  Well, Dad (most likely trying to change to a more favorable subject) then reminisced for a bit, saying that even Albus Dumbledore (who was a year older and a Gryffindor) was after my grandmother when they attended school.  Maybe my reaction to this piece of information was pretty clear because he took one look at my face and said firmly, "No."

            To which I answered in relief, "Thank Merlin."  I certainly did not the Headmaster after me.  Though Cordelia and Pansy are under the great impression that he and Professor McGonagall are 'involved'.

            I really _don't _want to think about that sort of thing.

            When we were sitting down to dinner (some of us sporting various bruises), my father said that it wasn't ladylike to be cursing like a half-drunk sailor in a bar brawl.  I answered, in my ever charming wit, that most sailors would be complimented by that remark, since they were expected to be 'drunken curs' and not ladies.  I was subsequently reprimanded and told to watch my mouth.  Wormtail then asked me what I meant before when I sarcastically asked (or rather, screamed) if he were one of those "Queer Eye" guys.  

            I chose to make my exit there.

            Well, I went to Diagon Alley today.  Escorted by Bellatrix.  She was in disguise, of course.  But with that getup, I think she attracted more than she blended in.  She was supposed to guard me, much like Bradley usually does, but she went off to Knockturn Alley to do who knows what.  Personally, I was happy about this.  She's just as bad as Umbridge.  And I wouldn't say _that_ lightly.  Maybe it's because of the way that she sucks up to Dad.  Even Nagini, Dad's pet snake, notices this.  

            And Dad says _I_ have a mouth!  At least I don't curse!

            …a lot.

            So I went out into Muggle London…even if I wasn't supposed to.  But I had a very good reason and it turned out great.  I don't think Dad would admit it, but it's true.  Judging from all those magazines that we are supposed to look at in Muggle Studies, the muggles have a good sense of style.  And comfortable shoes.  I nearly killed myself in the high-heels I was wearing before!  It wasn't that hard to convert my wizarding money at Gringotts to muggle pounds and pence.  Thank goodness Dad left me a big account before he was "detained from cleansing the world and bringing about a new dark age".  Bought a new wardrobe and got a _suitable_ "makeover" that was less torturous on my person.

            I ate a hamburger.

            Also, I have purchased a muggle contraption called a "yo-yo".  I don't know what it does quite yet, but I am determined to see how a muggle could find a cylinder tied to a long string with a loop in it for your finger is useful.  Or at least, amusing.

            Afterward, I met Theo at Flourish and Blotts.  It was easy to find him:  he's a huge bookworm.  Not to the point of Granger, but a bookworm nevertheless.  However, every time that Blaise or myself mentions this, he gets offended.  

            So, he isn't a bookworm, per se.

            He is a 'literary enthusiast'.

            After he bought his books, we went down to Fortescue's ice cream parlor.  We had a good time.

            I got news about Blaise.  I had been wondering why the 'little' (it's a joke, since he towers over Theo and I) weirdo hadn't written to me so far.  Actually, Blaise's parents took a visit to Tuscany in Italy and decided not to take him with them.  So, he was sent to the Flemmings, who are distant cousins.  Poor bloke.

            Well, that was before the Weasleys showed up.  And Theo, being who he is, had to antagonize them.  There were three of them:  Fred and George, along with Ron.  They didn't exactly do _anything_, but the whole pureblood family feud is a bit annoying.  Not that I feel that we should be allowed to accept point of views of others.

            No, I feel that fighting should not occur while I am eating a delicious Rainbow Sundae.  

            If it led to anything, I don't know.  Bellatrix decided to an appearance, which brought around the attention of the two older Weasleys.  

            But something strange happened when Ron Weasley looked at me.  I don't know what to think of it.  Do Weasleys change color?

            …it's not important.  

            Sigh.  Another day in front of me.  Another day closer to doing the task that Dad is asking me to do.  Oh, this will be a horrible year.  The next time I'll see Theo will be on the train to Hogwarts.  Hopefully, Blaise will be sane.

            As sane as he could possibly be after spending the last two months with a prattling and annoying Cordelia.  

            -Maia.

            It wasn't everyday that a woman like that appeared at Diagon Alley.  She had a proud face, as intense and eye-catching as her beauty.  Her thick strawberry blond hair gleamed in the mid-day rays of the sun and her dark eyes flashed with passion.  Her robes, a deep purple, accentuated a model-like body.  As she walked down the wide avenue, both appreciative and jealous eyes followed her, wondering who she was.  The lady, of course, accepted such complimentary glances with a satisfied smile and cocky stride.  

            The presence of the teenage girl that said woman was escorting went unnoticed by most.  It seemed as if the woman did not think much of her, but the teenager didn't seem to care.  Every attentive glance and the girl would return it with marked indifference in her light brown eyes.  Unlike the older woman, she was carrying a couple of shopping bags filled with purchases.

            The girl could be described as pretty.  Could, being the main word.  She had the appearance of someone trying to look older, judging from the overdone makeup and clothing, yet failing miserably at her attempt.  The new style of robes that designer Bernadette Radbury had put out had looked wonderful on the model in the latest wizarding fashion magazines.  Then again, the said model was a pale blonde beauty with only a pretty face and very little curves.  She was the very contrast of the young girl, who made the outfit look both garish and atrocious.  Brown hair seemed as if it were hacked by a dull scissor, if not a chainsaw.  She wobbled every now and then on the high-heels that she wore.  The scowl gracing her face didn't help anything either.  She really didn't want to be in the woman's presence.  

            When they were in front of Flourish and Blotts', the blonde turned to the girl and said brusquely, "I'm going off to buy a few…special items.  I'll be back in at least three hours."  Without even a good-bye the woman left the girl in front of the bookstore, each of them mutually happy to be away from each other's company.

            The woman was Bellatrix Lestrange, in disguise, of course.

            The girl was Maia Knight. 

            Shrugging, Maia walked past the shop and made her way cautiously and carefully to the Leaky Cauldron.  There was no need to have the psycho woman who was supposed to be watching her – for the Dark Lord did not give the woman any orders to go into Knockturn Alley – to get on her case.  The fact that the spindly heels she wore on her feet made it all the more difficult.  Survival lay in balance…and in concentrating on how to walk. 

_            Right, left, heel, toe._

            She felt like a dressed up doll.  The make-up felt like a mask on her face and she thought she looked awful in the clothes that she wore.  In Maia's opinion of opinions, style and sophistication were eternal while wearing the new type of wizarding robes were fads.  And high-heels had to be the bane of a woman's existence.  Maia was very tempted to just walk barefoot.  Which was why she was going into Muggle London.  While Muggles lacked in magic and general knowledge of the world, they had good sense in what looked right and didn't.  

            And they probably had better shoes.

            When they were in Gringotts to get her money from the vault, she had changed much of the money given to her (much more than what was needed for regular school shopping) into muggle money while Bellatrix wasn't looking.  It was at these times that she found it wonderful that she had chosen Muggle Studies for her elective.  Unlike some of the most educated wizards, she could actually handle muggle currency and know what was what.  And it was also useful.  With muggles making up a much larger majority of the population than magical people, it made sense.  Well, at the _moment_, there was a majority.  If her father had his way, that would soon change.

            After taking off the gaudy robe and opening the door, Maia walked into the masses of muggles that milled around the street, blending in.  Muggle London could be a death trap for wizards that didn't know what they were doing.  Some got lost on the subways; others were cheated by muggles that knew the wizard had no idea how much they actually paying.  And cars.  Crossing the street could be a dangerous thing.  Most wizards, when hit by cars, always had that same look too.  The muggles had a saying for it, but Maia couldn't really remember what it was.

            Spying what was called a 'mall' a few blocks away, she headed there first.  Malls tended to have a lot of stores centered towards people her age.  It wouldn't be hard to find a decent shoe store…and a salon.  Carrying anything wouldn't be a problem because the bags were spelled to hold a much more than they looked.  

            Sure enough, she found a shoe store.  And not to far off, a decent looking salon.  Maybe grab a – hamburger? – well, those muggle sandwiches that had lettuce, tomato, onions, ketchup, and a patty of meat in them.  Then, clothing.  She wouldn't buy those ultra-tight, baring practically everything clothing that seemed to be the rage of the muggle world.  No, she preferred to keep her modesty in public and not come off looking like a harlot.   

            She had a good three hours anyway.  Theo wouldn't be arriving at the Alley until one at the least.  But he claimed he'd be there at two.

            But nothing could stop a little window-shopping here and there, now could it?  She was, after all, a sixteen-year old girl.  Just because she was a witch didn't change a thing.

            A very different looking – and more comfortable – Maia Knight walked into the Leaky Cauldron.  She had done pretty well for herself in her opinion.  And the muggles in the stores she had gone into were glad to help her out.  They even made suggestions.  True, she still wobbled a bit on her heels, but the girl said this was natural.  And these were better than the old ones.  Her hair was cut in a better style: cut_ evenly_ and was slightly layered.  And she had clothes that suited her tastes.  Even got some jewelry – nothing flashy though.  But it wasn't as if she had to worry.  Money was no object considering the amount of wealth amassed in her vault thanks to her father.  Actually, she still had a healthy sum left over.  All in all, she felt better than before. Maia really didn't care **how** she looked, just if she was comfortable.  

            Actually, she didn't think she was much different than before that horrible makeover.  Just with very minimal makeup and a different haircut.  Her clothes weren't as revealing as the current fashion dictated, but she felt fine.  A white scarf was looped around her waist, the fringed edges coming down nearly to her knees.  She now wore well-fitting black jeans and a red tank-top with a ripped collar, almost in a rocker style.  Wearing that old robe, Maia had felt like she was that idiot Gilderoy Lockhart.  

            She didn't think she looked amazingly spectacular, but it was a definite improvement.  

            She headed directly to Flourish and Blotts.  It was two o'clock; meaning Theo was bound to be at the Alley (he was annoyingly punctual at times) and no doubt there.  He was a bit of a bookworm.  He wasn't as bad as Hermione Granger, but he went to the library often.  She often went with him, though to escape the usually noisy Slytherin common room.  There was always some sort of fight going on in there.  If there wasn't a fight or argument, then in an amazing show of coincidence, the entire house was scheming.  

            Sure enough, there he was.  Theo wasn't much taller than she was, but according to him, he would one day tower over her.  It was an old joke between them.  Much like the joke about Blaise.  She walked into the store, completely oblivious to the interested look that the young clerk (a seventh year Ravenclaw that was working to earn some money, if she had bothered to look – or remember him) gave her.  No, her attention was focused on her friend, who was busily picking books off the shelves, a happy smile plastered across his face.

            "Theo!" she greeted him cheerfully.  Not with a hug, for Slytherins weren't privy to giving or receiving public displays of affection.  The dark-haired boy turned around expectantly before he dropped his books to the ground in surprise.

            "Maia?"

            "Yes."

            "Maia."

            "Right."

            "What did you do to yourself?!"  That was definitely the wrong thing to say.  He blanched immediately at the venomous look she gave him.  "I didn't mean it in a bad way!" he hastily apologized.  "You look…different.  Good!  But different."  

            "Thanks," she replied dryly.  "Remember my father?"

            "It's kind of hard not to," he replied in equal sarcasm.  He was one of the few people she trusted with that information.  She doubted even Draco Malfoy, the son of the supposed 'second-in-command', knew.  Though Maia wouldn't trust Malfoy as far as she could throw him.  Which, no doubt, wasn't far.  Malfoy had a habit of talking too much.  "After all he's done…"

            "Yeah.  I am now part of a conspiracy."

            Theo chuckled, his dark brown eyes amused.  "According to Blaise, we all are."

            Maia laughed, but quickly sobered.  "Not what I meant, though.  Are you finished?"

            "Yep," he said, bending down to pick up the fallen books.  "Just getting a bit of light reading."  Maia joined him, though she was amused when she picked up Quidditch Through the Ages.  Not that she didn't like quidditch.  She liked it.  But the only thing she could do on a broom was fly.  Simple flying.  That was it.

            As he finished paying for his books – once more missing the looks that the clerk gave her – Maia asked, "Where is Blaise anyway?"  They needed no discussion to know where they were going – Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

            "You know how his parents are vacationing in Tuscany right?"  The busy crowds around him nearly drowned out his voice.  One particularly buxom witch nearly knocked her off her shaky balance.

            Maia nodded.  "Of course, he told us last year.  Saying how good it would be to leave England for at least a little while.

            "Yeah.  They didn't take him with them so they -"

            "They didn't?!"

            "Yep.  He's staying with the Flemmings.  Cordelia will drive him over the edge, if he hadn't gone over it already."  It was a well-known fact, among the Slytherins at least, that Blaise Zabini hated Cordelia Flemming.  It was mutual during most of the year.  Most, since she tended to forget that fact each summer.  A confused "what?" from Theo broke her out of pitying her other friend. 

            "What is it?"

            "This was in my books," he said with barely restrained revulsion, gesturing to a tiny slip of parchment.  "87-76 Franklin Court, Bath – Owl me."

            "My, you're popular."

            "Shut up!"

            As they settled down and ordered their ice creams, both dropped their shopping bags beneath the table.  The umbrella, a cool blue, was a welcome shield against the hot summer heat.  Their orders were the same every year:  both would have Fortescue's famous 'Rainbow' Sundaes.  A different ice cream flavor with each color, topped with chocolate sprinkles and cherries.  The perfect treat for the day.  

            "How've you been?" Maia asked interestedly.  Unlike Theo, the Notts tended to have quite an exciting life.  Theo's oldest brother, Kenneth, worked as an Obliviator and Theo was never tired of mentioning the time when a yeti was captured by an intrepid group of evidently intelligent muggles.  The purebloods had a good laugh at this, saying the muggles and the yeti shared a lot in common.  But the encounter had left Kenneth unconscious for two weeks.  And that was just one example.  There was another Nott who was a thief and yet another who went around as a bounty hunter.  

            "Same old, same old," was the neutral response.  "Ever since your dad has come back, they've been sort of edgy.  Hence, my summer has been spent just staying in Nott Manor."  Maia offered her condolences, while the boy waved them off.  "So what's with the new look?" Theo asked, eagerly tucking into the ice cream.  "You said it had to do with your dad."

            Maia shrugged and scowled.  "It's a plot that I'm bound to fail in.  And I'm not really too happy about it.  You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

            "Try me."  He always loved a challenge.  

            Cautiously picking her word choice, she ventured, "How likely is it for a Gryffindor to date a Slytherin?  Seriously."

            "Slim to none, why?"  Maia gave him a level look and he choked on the red section – strawberry.  "You're joking!"

            Apparently, he got the message loud and clear.  Thankfully.  "No," she dissented.  "As hard to believe it is, it's true.  I'm supposed to get him to like me."  It wouldn't do to mention names in such a public place.  You never knew who was listening.

            "Good luck with that," Theo said matter-of-factly.  "According to my uncle, someone close to him died in that whole Department of Mysteries thing.  Combine that with the load of anti-Slytherin feeling that's bound to run rampant this year.  I'm wondering if your father hasn't gone mad."

            "I thought he had," Maia returned crossly.  It was typical of Theo to add concrete and plausible reasons for her failure.  He was the logically thinking one.  She was the imaginative one, albeit if she looked out for herself quite a bit.

            "I meant stupid mad.  It's already quite well known that he's insanely mad."  A smirk grew on the boy's face.  "You better hope that Potter isn't like Chang in his grief."

            "Too true," she concurred before adding, "Or maybe I should hope.  That would make everything a lot easier."  Maia opened her mouth to say something else, when loud rowdy voices, thick with mischief, interrupted her.  Both sixteen-year olds turned to the sound and saw three redheads settle down at a table not too far off.  Two were identical, both wearing dragonleather jackets and the grins of troublemakers.  Fred and George Weasley, the pair made famous by their admirable escape of Hogwarts.  The other was slightly taller than they were, but it was easy to recognize the gangly Ronald Weasley.  He seemed rather embarrassed at being with his two rambunctious brothers.

            "Weasleys," remarked Theo, loudly and contemptuously.  "I swear, they're like vermin.  Both are widespread and multiply more times than the world can handle."  It was at these times she was happy that she wasn't very involved in the affairs of the pureblood families.  After all, she really didn't count the Knights, who were murdered by her father.  And she knew nothing of her father's side; other than that her paternal grandfather should rot in hell and that her grandmother was the last of the Arsenys family.  The feuding, conspiring, and plotting going on between them all was rather annoying.  The three obviously heard what was said, since they sent malicious glares their way, mostly at Theo.  He, however, finished his ice cream with the usual grace and dignity that made a rich pureblood exactly that before sneering at them.  Maia just shook her head – she was used to this behavior on Theo's part, but it wasn't her business to do anything about it.  She wouldn't dictate what Theo thought.  Her eyes then connected with those of Ron Weasley's for a brief moment.  For some reason, the Gryffindor's face turned so red it was almost purple.  Maia raised a dark eyebrow in question over the color change, but Bellatrix arrived all too soon.  It took a while to notice though, since the Death Eater hadn't said a word.

            "You went out," she stated, anger lacing each word.

            "Yes," Maia replied.

            "I can tell.  You look like a muggle."

            "What do you expect?"  Smirking, she asked, "Have fun?"

            Bellatrix's dark eyes narrowed in dislike.  "You need to learn some respect.  Be happy certain circumstances prevent me from administrating a cure for that attitude of yours."

            "I give respect to those I believe deserve it."  Out of the corner of her eye, Maia could see the Weasley twins eying Lestrange eagerly.  Apparently, they didn't recognize the famous Death Eater and liked her disguise.  It was sort of a relief that they wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts – she, as a Slytherin – really didn't have be as careful with what she ate anymore.

            Though I would kill to see someone turn Malfoy into a ferret again.

            "Come on," the woman ordered before striding away in evident agitation.

            Sighing, Maia picked up the bags beneath the table.  "See you in September, Theo."

            "I'd better go, too," he answered, standing up as well.  "Mother is probably wondering what happened to me.  But at least I don't need chaperones."  This emphasis was obviously pointed toward the younger of the present Weasley brothers.  Theo then laughed shortly, "Just stay alive!"

            With that, Maia hurried to catch up with Bellatrix, who hadn't bothered to wait.

            As always with the Floo network, Maia stumbled out of the fireplace, shopping bags following.  It was the chief reason why Bradley put a flameproof pillow there.  It was only until she got up, cursing softly as she tried to regain her dignity, that she noticed her father sitting in an armchair.  A large snake was curled up at his feet, hissing softly.  It was easy enough to understand:  "Master's daughter is here…she will get the boy to us, yes…and I will finally have my meal…

            Maia's thought on the snake:  What a pleasant snake!

            She was, of course, sarcastic.

            Voldemort blinked at her.  "You look different."  Déjà vu.  And like the last time, Maia glared.  "Better!"

            "Thank you."

            His red eyes narrowed, "But you look like a **muggle**."  He scowled.  "You were supposed to **stay **in the alley, not go around muggle London!"

            Time for a little twisting of the words.  "I didn't know that."

            "Really," was the dry reply.

            "Yes," Maia insisted.  "Mrs. Lestrange just said that she'd be back in a few hours and left me there.  She didn't tell me that I **couldn't** go into muggle London or anything."

            The Dark Lord merely nodded to her, still scowling.  "I see.  Bella will have to answer to that blunder.  But at least you did something constructive."  Yay!  Off the hook!  "Do you remember exactly where you went?"

            "Yes," the teenager replied, wondering where this was going.

            "Good.  When I attack London, their lives will be spared …for a time."

************


	3. Blue Haired Conspirators and Gryffindors

Disclaimer: I only own Maia, any original characters, and the plot. 

* * *

**Dark Reflections**

* * *

Chapter Three: Blue-haired Conspirators and Gryffindors 

_ Well, I'm back at Hogwarts. Big surprise, right?_

_ Don't get me wrong. I do like being here. Despite the usual quarrels and the piles of homework that McGonagall somehow expects us to complete in a matter of a night and six hours, I do like it here. Though Cordelia's shrill voice is something I wish I would never hear in my life again and Millicent just **has **to be aware of the silencing charm we've been putting everyday since first year so we could get a decent night's sleep. But it will be odd that in just two years (counting this one) that I probably will never see the Slytherin common room ever again. Never lie in this bed, never use the showers. I'll probably miss the showers the most. I swear, we must be near the source of wherever we get the hot water here. Unlike the other houses, which sometimes complain about the cold water, we have never had an instance of cold water in the entire history of Slytherin House. Actually, this is even noted in Hogwarts: A History. I've never read it, but I really don't need to. I could just ask Theo._

_ If you would believe it, Dad and I bonded over something. Yes, it's true. No joke. But it was rather odd. Remember that yo-yo I bought in Muggle London? Well, I was experimenting with that a few days ago. But I couldn't get it to work. It just…hung there. While I was trying the thing out, Dad was yelling at Wormtail over something. I think it was about how he got close to some place called "Privet Drive", but was nearly captured. Really pissed off Dad. But Dad has this thing about torture: he doesn't do any of it in front of me. Out of curiosity, I asked Bradley and he said that Dad didn't feel I should be learning dark torture curses yet. Dumbledore is a Legilimens and no doubt would check me. And if I tried to learn Occlumency, that would be suspicious._

_ Yes, come into Maia's mind! Just waltz in and poke around! She won't mind! Honestly… _

_ Back to what happened. Dad was fuming and Wormtail just kneeling there trembling in fear really didn't help his mood. I'm beginning to think that someone should write a Death Eater handbook or something. Rule 1: Do not show defiance, but also don't show cowardice. It's a paradoxical rule, I know, but if those Death Eaters followed it, well then they'd be better off. So, Dad just grabbed the yo-yo out of my hand and – pow! – he nailed Wormtail in the head with it! It was bloody wicked! And then it went back to his hand, just like that! Turns out that Dad knows how to use a yo-yo because of his days at a muggle orphanage. He even taught me! Practicing on Wormtail, of course._

_ This could prove useful._

_ Well, we did the same thing we did every year to get me on the train. Bradley and I portkeyed to the station with no problems, wished me luck, and then left. Every year he shrinks my trunk to make it easy for me to just go on the train. Dad apologized for not coming, but it would create quite a scene if he did show up. Probably off plotting or something. He isn't at the house anymore, not wanting to put suspicion on Bradley, or myself, as well as looking for a more strategic place for a headquarters. But I'm on my own now, back at Hogwarts. FREEDOM!_

_ It wasn't hard to find Theo at all. We did have an interesting run-in with an older man: Herman Corner. The great-uncle of Michael Corner apparently thought we were some old acquaintances of his: Celesta Arsenys and Artemis Nott. Do I really look that much like my grandmother? Seriously! We explained to him who we were, though he seemed slightly put out, he wished us luck on this year._

_ Together we boarded the train and went to our compartment. Yep. Our compartment. We always sit in the same compartment every year: the last one in the second car of the Hogwarts Express. Nobody ever sits there other than Slytherins. It's a sort of tradition. So, we weren't expecting anyone inside it. There I am talking to Theo, not really looking because of the said tradition, to sit in my customary window seat._

_ Needless to say, I was just as surprised to find myself in the lap of Harry Potter as he was._

_ I will not deny that it was very awkward._

_ After a few moments of argument, we allowed Potter to sit in our compartment. He looked pretty…off. It must have had something to do with that death Theo mentioned. His reasoning was that he wanted some time to himself without anyone "interrogating" him or inquiring about his health. Silently, Theo and I agreed that this would be a good opportunity. We let him stay, on the terms that he wouldn't cause trouble, his Gryffie friends wouldn't show up to bother us, and that he wouldn't discriminate against us. Definitely the last one, since Theo's dad is a Death Eater. And I am…myself. But he doesn't know that. _

_ It was sort of uncomfortable at first, but Potter stayed quiet so Theo and I started talking about stuff again (minus the 'sensitive' areas, of course). After a bit, Potter started talking to us and, as much as I hate to admit it, he wasn't so bad. We actually had similar interests and even the same sense of cynical humor. After talking to him, I have to wonder why Potter isn't a Slytherin. And I could see Theo was wondering the same thing. But all in all, it actually, dare I say, fun._

_ May Dad never find this notebook._

_ Blaise showed up a few minutes later. As it turns out, we were right, he wasn't alright when he came in. Well, we weren't expecting much already. Our blue-haired friend has always been peculiar, but after spending a majority of the holiday with the Flemmings? He was nearly insane. But he came bursting in exclaiming how he couldn't take it anymore and how all of us needed to redo our hair. After babbling for a few moments incoherently, he told us a horrid tale of forced makeovers, frilly skirts, countless balls, and being stuck in a large isolated manor with only prissy pureblood girls for company. Then he did the same thing as Theo and Dad did when they saw my new look._

_ Guys._

_ In the end, he calmed down enough to do the yearly "Homework Check". That's when we give each other's essays to the person who is best at it. Which means that I get Charms and History, Theo has Transfiguration and Potions, and Blaise takes Arithmancy, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures. It was made slightly easier when Potter decided to participate. Between the three of us, we're good at DADA, but Potter is better at it than even we are. _

_ But not by much._

_ But that is still saying something._

_ Yes, we were a delightful group of individuals in this compartment. The son of a Death Eater (Theo), the descendant of one of Grindelwald's most trusted generals (Blaise), and the daughter of the Dark Lord (me). Add in the Boy-Who-Lived and savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter._

_ Mix and let sit for about a nine hour train ride._

_ Results may vary._

_ I don't know why but he seemed slightly happier when he was around us. It was fun and after we started we ate from the food cart, we had a large conversation over quidditch teams. Can you believe he likes the **Chudley Cannons**?! I mean, c'mon! They're losers! Theo, Blaise, and I are loyal Falmouth Falcons fans. They rule! He's probably spent so much time with Weasley that he doesn't know that there are better teams out there. I think we managed to get him to convert (yes, Falmouth Falcon fanship is a religion!). _

_ After awhile, Potter fell asleep. Looked like he needed it, too, considering the shadows under his eyes. What made it uncomfortable was the fact that during a turn, Potter (who was leaning against the window) shifted. Towards me. Just fell to the side, his head falling onto my lap. He then mumbled something before going off to dreamland again._

_ You could imagine how this looked._

_ I am going to kill Blaise and Theo. You could tell from their perverted smirks what they were thinking. Granted, Theo said it all with, "Fraternizing with the enemy much, Maia?"_

_ We decided to be the polite purebloods that we were (as if it mattered much) and let him sleep (on my lap) while we tried to work out a quiet conversation. I was going to show them the yo-yo trick, when who comes barging in?_

_ Yep. Malfoy. And, being a Malfoy, he ruined everything._

_ First, he walked in all haughty-like, smirking. Asking for where I was, specifically. Which meant that he knew that I was the Dark Lord's daughter (I think I have some title of my own, but hell if I know it. It isn't as if I'm going to refer to myself in the third person. It might just be 'Lady'.). And that was not a good thing. Note to self: Obliviate Malfoy. Then, he…ogled me. Or maybe a better word is 'leer'. I wouldn't know; I'm not usually the object of most guys' attention. Or if I was, I wasn't very conscious of it. But I know that look. He gets it every time he sees a girl he likes. _

_ My skin is crawling with disgust._

_ And if he thinks he's getting me, he's wrong. I would rather kiss a ferret before…_

_ Bad analogy. Kissing Malfoy would be like kissing a ferret._

_ Or possibly worse._

_ Then he noticed that Potter was sleeping on my lap._

_ Priceless._

_ His face got this slack, shocked look. Then these two really light blotches of color appeared on his face. Yes, blotches. He's that pale. When I first came to Hogwarts (I had met Theo before, and Blaise on the train), Theo was swearing that Malfoy was albino. He isn't._

_ Malfoy started to rave about Potter and Slytherin pride as soon as he recovered from about five minutes of shock (Theo's acerbic wit brought him out of it). There's something about a prissy rich boy going on and on, that just wakes a person up. Yes, Potter woke up (he did later apologize for what he had done), but I guess he was a bit groggy, because he made no attempt to get up from my lap._

_ And let the crap hit the fan!_

_ Then the little git started going on about how my dad was going to get Potter and everything, completely missing the more than obvious signs that Theo was making to shut up. Idiot. Then, to make things worse, the rest of Potter's stalkers showed up, making more of a scene. Apparently, they had been looking for him (since it was such a CRIME not to sit with them), but didn't think of searching the "Slytherin" compartments. Right. Ron Weasley, his sister Ginny (her real name is 'Ginevra, I think, but I'm not one to keep track of the Weasleys, now am I? There's too many of them and I have better things to do.), Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom. They started yelling at each other, all the while trying to drag Potter out of the compartment. Add in the fact that Potter's head was still on my lap and looked as if he didn't want to move. Good Circe. In the end, I got so mad I did the yo-yo attack at Malfoy and Weasley. One, they were annoying me, and two, they both gave me these…leers. But they still refused to leave, the whole lot of them. So, Blaise did the monkey trick. _

_ Yep_

_ That's right, the monkey trick. You can't beat it!_

_ They all left in the end, including Potter, who was dragged away by those self-righteous Gryffindors._

_ Dinner was horrible. Firsties sorted, Dumbledore makes speech on what's forbidden and the dangers that Dad is posing to the magical world, yadda-yadda. Then we got to eat. My erstwhile favorite feast was ruined though. Malfoy decided to seat near us. He usually never does, but what do you know? He was leering at me again, which caused a full half-hour interrogation by Pansy. Halfway through dinner, Blaise got so annoyed by this that he literally dragged me out of the hall – Theo following. Like I'd be interested in some pampered rich boy that nearly fits all the qualifications of a stereotypical dumb blonde. Okay, I admit that Malfoy isn't really 'dumb' academically, but in a social situation, let's just say there is more to be desired. Blaise, though (or rather, we) did stop at the Gryffindor table to remind those annoying Gryffindors that ruined the train ride of the "monkey" trick. Weasley (both of them) looked as if they were about to blow. Not surprising. The female Weasley maybe dating Thomas, but she was clearly making moves on Potter. Not that Potter noticed at any rate, with people asking questions and Granger nagging at him to eat this and that._

_ It is this that makes me happy to be Slytherin. We mostly mind our own business unless we either need to or if we think it's a serious situation. We're the independent types._

_ Granted, we have a strange outlook on what is a 'serious situation'. To us, that is severe threatening, getting bullied, extreme (in the extreme sense) physical or mental injury, etc. We stick together…in a strange fashion._

_ But you could practically **taste** the anti-Slytherin prejudice in the air. From the Gryffindors, it wasn't particularly new. And the Hufflepuffs, since quite a few of the our house did not stand to honor Harry Potter at the End of Term feast in fourth year. It doesn't help that a majority of the house likes to make fun of the Hufflepuffs to begin with. But even the Ravenclaws were giving us evil glares! So-called House unity!_

_ …Okay, I admit that we aren't the nicest group in the bunch, but it's the principle of the matter!_

_ We're going to have to ask Steph about it. That's Amarantha Stephania Nott, Theo's little sister. We just call her 'Steph' and she prefers it. She's a Ravenclaw 5th year now._

_ Theo did notice that Dumbledore was looking at me oddly. Blaise and I are working out the "whys" to that. Is he putting two and two together? Probably. How else can he remain the headmaster of a school like Hogwarts? And there is that blasted resemblance. I have to watch myself. But it's hard not to look at him and be reminded that Samuel Corner called him 'Albie'._

_ Well, either way, we're going to have to find some way to give Potter back his Charms essay without being jumped by his friends or Malfoy._

_ Talk about "mission: impossible"._

_**-Maia.**_

* * *

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was in its usual tumult. Owls hooting to each other from their cages, cats wandering this way and that. The familiar sound of a boy looking for his toad. Everything horrifyingly normal.

If one discounted the incredible amount of security that was around. Aurors were stationed everywhere, observing everyone and asking a lot of annoyingly officious questions. Maia Knight smirked at the irony. All these precautions to keep Death Eaters from infiltrating Hogwarts, yet they had no idea that Voldemort's daughter was going to step on the train with no fuss at all. It was quite laughable really. Though no one knew that she was the Dark Lord's child. Only those that were trusted beyond all doubt were let in on that secret.

And to Maia Knight, that only applied to two people. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.

Bradley Kincaid towered above her (he was quite tall), the dark-haired man looking down on her with his typical expression of worry and concern. This was nothing Maia was unfamiliar with, Bradley had been her guardian and primary bodyguard for nearly her entire life. Though he was more like an overprotective older brother than those previously said titles. His face was graver than it ordinarily was, probably due to the fact that Voldemort had returned and had taken residence in his home for the entire summer. That was bound to get anyone more than a little stressed out. He had worn dark green robes, the ones that he rarely ever wore because it was a terror to clean. Bradley fiddled with his wand nervously, looking at the security with an openly worried eye.

She knew it was all an act. What better way to fool the security than by being openly conscious of them? He looked much like the other parents around the platform.

Maia stood unconcerned. She had a ticket, so they couldn't stop her from going if they tried. But she was very concerned with the glances that she was getting from boys. She wasn't used to this attention at all.

No…not exactly. She did admit that her curvy figure had attracted some notice before, but it wasn't shown as overtly as this! She shuddered in disgust. It was almost as if they were undressing her with their eyes. And she would like to stay dressed in her long blue denim skirt with a slit on the side, lightweight black leather jacket, and green t-shirt with her knee-high beige Timberland boots, thank you very much.

Perverts, the lot of them. Wait until they found out she was a Slytherin. That tended to keep people away.

"Do you have everything?"

"Yep, I'm all set."

"Good. Are you prepared for anything that could happen?"

"Yes. I know nothing about what Dad is doing and, as far as I'm concerned, I have no connection that I know of to him."

"Excellent. Though I know you're getting tired of hearing this…"

She sighed dramatically. "Be careful, I know. Dad said it to me about fifteen times before we left the house, twenty the night before also." The nearby parents gave Bradley the sympathetic look of: **'They always say that, but it never gets through their head, does it?'**

"Well, he's understandably worried about you. You are his only child."

"How do you know that? We have no idea what Dad has done before or after my birth in that area."

Bradley pulled a face. "…I'd rather not think of it. Trunk?"

"In my pocket. Like it has been for an hour. Must we go through this every year?"

"Yes. Especially this year. Now we aren't kidding about being careful. There's bound to be a lot of prejudice against your house this year due to…um…"

"The current condition of the nation?"

He relaxed visibly. "Good euphemism. You're going to be an obvious target."

"I don't see how."

"Your father isn't kidding when he says that you resemble your grandmother quite a bit. Someone might make the connection. We're hoping that Dumbledore doesn't get too suspicious of you."

"I highly doubt that would happen, with Malfoy and his cronies acting like the 'new regime'."

"Nevertheless, stay alert. Stick by those you trust. Remember your task."

"Oh yeah…the impossible-to-do one." She made a large wink as well as the 'okay' gesture with her hands. "Gotcha."

He rolled his eyes at her, exasperated with her sarcasm. "Be happy that he's giving you a good time interval for this. These things do take time. Even just getting close to him is a feat. Now if you have any problems, talk to Professor Snape. He's one of us."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She blinked in confusion. If anything, Maia would have thought Professor Snape to be one of Dumbledore's most loyal followers. Maybe there was more to her head of house than she thought.

But it could go both ways…cunning and deviousness are never discriminating.

She forgot where she heard that before, but it was a true statement.

"Also," Bradley went on, his tone that of an older brother, "stay by Theodore and Blaise." She nodded in understanding. It was no lie that she herself was quite capable of taking care of herself, having been taught how to duel from a skilled professional assassin and bodyguard as Bradley Kincaid, as well as knowing a few basic self-defense moves. She had never understood why she had to learn them before when she was young (though she enjoyed the dueling), but she was in a lot of danger considering who she was. Though she was conditioned to take care of herself, Lord Voldemort wanted to make certain that his daughter was more than well protected. Theo had been purposely trained to be her personal guard since the minute he could walk, the arrangement decided before either of them had been born. Blaise was chosen for the position as her second guard a few months after that decision, after her father began suspecting Lucius Malfoy of trying to elevate himself and his son too much for his own good.

Voldemort didn't like the idea of 'arranged marriage' at all.

She was thankful of this.

**Very **thankful.

It was awkward meeting all of them at first, both having the idea of 'her word is law' indoctrinated in them. But they relaxed soon enough. Let Malfoy have the brainless cronies. She wanted intelligent conversation. And friends wouldn't hurt either.

"Right," she nodded.

"Here's Theodore," Bradley noted. Within moments, the dark-haired boy appeared at her side, standing at attention and ready, regarding the older man with clear respect. Sure, Theo was only half an inch taller than she was, but he was taught to be the best bodyguard she could have. He didn't look it, but Theo was a threat both with and without his wand. Combine that with his thirst for knowledge, then you had one dangerous individual. Which was exactly what Voldemort had hoped for.

"Sir," Theo greeted deferentially. "The area is secure and I'm capable and ready to take over." This was common between the two, though personally, Maia hated that sort of talk. Not only did they sound like robots, but also it made her seem like an object.

"If both of you are done," she interjected. "You know I hate that!"

"Standard procedure," the two of them said in synchronization.

"Right…see you, Bradley."

"Bye…and listen to me for once." With a sharp crack, Bradley was gone, apparating back to their home. Dawdling a moment as she usually did when Bradley vanished like that, she and Theo began walking towards the scarlet steam engine, the trolley holding Theo's trunks trailing behind them.

"How did it go?"

"I managed to stay out of trouble with Dad. 'Bella' got all the blame."

"Good, I had been wondering what happened. I suppose that she doesn't always look like that?"

"You know it."

"Figured. I mean, after all those years, how could she look like that? Though I've heard from my father that she was pretty good-looking in her Hogwarts days."

"And that was when?"

"Touché. Have you seen Blaise?"

"Neither hide nor hair of him. Hair particularly, since it's not hard to miss a person with blue hair."

"I'm sure we'll find him soon – what the bloody hell?!" Maia immediately drew her wand at the exclamation, prepared just in case. Theo had his out when he had muttered 'the'. Two wands were pointed at the perpetrator, who had a hold on Theo's trolley. It was an old man, whose frailness was apparent in his shaking wrinkled hands and his wizened face. He was dressed in decent wizard robes, but he looked at least in his early nineties. Sharing a glance, the pair dropped their wands, though they held them ready at their sides just in case.

"Excuse me," Theo ventured politely. "Do you mind letting go of the trolley? I'd like to get on the train." Though he was generally disdainful of the "blood-traitor" families and the muggleborns, respect for the elderly was ingrained in them.

The old man, however, did nothing more than grin. "Still as cold and polite as ever, Artemis? C'mon, don't you remember old Sammy?" Maia gave the other boy a skeptical look, which he returned with a shrug. Sammy, as they assumed the man was, had then turned to Maia, an almost adoring expression on his face. "And Celesta! Celesta Arsenys, I haven't seen you in years! Continuing to pal around with Arty? And still as beautiful as you ever were. It's almost as if it were yesterday!" He continued, a glazed look in his ancient eyes, talking about times that were obviously long and gone.

"Umm…sir?" Maia tried to interject.

"My, I remember you caused a stir in that russet-colored dress that you had at that ball, remember? Absolutely smashing! Ole Albie Dumbledore was practically drooling on the floor, along with the rest of us gents back then. That's the same ball where you set Bilius Weasley on fire for ogling the poor lass, Artemis! Don't call me that, Celesta, no need to be formal among friends!"

"Sir, she isn't Celesta Arsenys," Theo interrupted, "nor am I Artemis Nott."

It was as if a hand slapped the poor man across the face. "What?"

"I'm Maia Knight, her granddaughter," she explained gently. "This is Theodore Nott." Theo beside her nodded gravely, looking mildly curious at what the old man had spoken about. As far as Maia knew, Artemis Nott (who was Theo's great-uncle) had died in the war against Grindelwald. It was assumed that was the case. The man had vanished in the midst of battle and was last seen in the march on Grindelwald's stronghold.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man apologized, though he appeared more as if he were about to cry right there and then. "You looked so much…brought back a lot of memories…wonderful, those two were…Samuel Corner's the name. Please, when you see them, send them my regards. Good luck." With that, Samuel Corner walked away, looking more ancient than he had when he approached them.

"We shouldn't tell him that they're both dead, Theo."

"I heard from my cousin Derek that we start séances in Divination this year. Maybe if for once that old bat teaches us right, we'll get the message across."

"That's nice of you…why?" she demanded.

"Hey! I can be good-natured!" The droll stare that Maia gave him said it all. "When I want to be."

* * *

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. He actually did it. And you know what? He's really good!"

"Wow…you know that this changes my view of your father completely?"

Maia laughed merrily as Theo helped her onto the train car with practiced gentlemanly chivalry, proceeding after her. "Of course, I know! How do you think it was for me really seeing him do that? You wouldn't think of him doing it, considering…his reputation. But it's true! No lies!"

The train was packed, as it usually was. And, as usual, no one was able to just sit in a compartment and stay there. No, there was commotion here and there, everywhere really. Theo lead the way down the hectic corridor, pushing people out of the way with either his hands or just a look. Behind him, Maia followed, one of Theo's eyes constantly trained on her. The girl, however, was more concerned with avoiding the sometimes too blatant attempts of some the boys to better acquaint themselves with her. Theo maintained a cheerful attitude with her, though he was anything but that when Anthony Goldstein decided to say hello. She could swear on Salazar Slytherin's grave that she heard the wrist bones of that Ravenclaw crack painfully. Though Goldstein's expression of pure agony – as well as Theo's triumphant and gloating smirk - told the tale quite clearly.

Finally, they reached their destination. It was one of the cars near the front of the train, the last compartment. On the handle, was carved a small snake. This symbol was important – only Slytherins were allowed to sit there. In fact, there had not been a single person outside the House of Snakes to sit in that specific compartment in a hundred years. Usually, there was a select group of people chosen to sit there, they choosing another group when they left. Blaise's cousin Marius was part of the previous group, so they were given the honor. Merlin bless nepotism.

Therefore, it was highly unlikely for anyone to be sitting there. Theo opened the door for her, ignoring the swat on his hand for being so deferential, before they walked in. They did not look around. They did not think they needed to. Theo's trunk packed itself up on the rack, quickly joined by her now resized one.

"Your father – the terrifying man that he is," Theo continued, as if the previous incidents had been as mundane as swatting a fly, meanwhile cuffing a particularly raucous first year over the head for attempting to enter the compartment, "can really and truly make a wicked casserole?!"

"Yes," Maia affirmed, nodding her head as she walked further into the compartment. Specifically, to her customary seat next to the window. Not even thinking, she plopped down to sit.

The fact that she was not sitting on the usual leather seat was the first clue that something was wrong. The second was that the surface she was sitting on felt like denim. And denim was not the material that made up the seats. Looking towards the back of the seat, her light brown eyes were met with surprised emerald green. Blinking, trying to convince herself that this was not a joke, she took in the full picture. Unruly black hair, green eyes, round glasses, scar…

Crap! Maia cursed in her head. This was not happening! "Potter," she asked skeptically. "Harry Potter?"

He nodded wordlessly.

This was not happening! Unfortunately, a quick pinch to her arm proved that, in fact, this was not a cruel and heartless dream that her subconscious mind had cooked up just to see her squirm. This was pure, harsh reality. And it was happening right now.

She was **not** supposed to meet Harry Potter and start her mission by just seating herself right in his lap!

And it looked as if he were just as surprised as she was.

"Theo?" Maia asked, her voice wavering slightly. "I am sitting on Harry Potter's lap right now…right?" Theo blinked, before wiping his glasses with a shirttail before, setting the back on his nose, and blinking again. He also nodded, seeming unable to find the words to speak. Maia glared at him, but the bodyguard merely shrugged. Maia did have to admit he had a point: what could he say to this?! It was the most unthinkable thing to happen since Millicent Bulstrode managed to kill some second-year's cat (the feline was howling in heat during the night, so it was a good thing) with just one backhand!

Well, he should at least say** something****,** Maia thought furiously.

Fortunately for Theo's overall well being, the compartment opened, which was odd in itself. No one came in other than the chosen people; it was an unspoken rule! Okay, Potter had evidently broken it. Speaking of which, he looked very under the weather. Sure, he was now taller (she could tell) and slightly less scrawny, but he was still pale and had dark shadows beneath his eyes, like he hadn't had a good sleep in weeks. This was taken in a passing moment, for at that moment, Potter had grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and brought her close to him, his arms wrapping around her in a kind of embrace. "What are you doing?" she whispered harshly.

"Shut up!" Potter merely commanded. She could already see Theo readying his wand for the attack. Hopefully, the result of this little interruption wouldn't be so bad – Theo knew quite a bit and when he didn't know what to make of a situation, it added to his aggression. Also, Maia was hoping that this would be quick. This was just too **weird** even for her.

"Excuse me," a timid voice broke the silence, a voice she immediately recognized. When did **Neville Longbottom** of all people have the guts to come into a **Slytherin** compartment? From her…position, she looked on out of the corner of her eye (Potter's head was thankfully not in her way). The Gryffindor was looking around the compartment warily, his stare lingering on herself and Potter, but was obviously more concerned with the wand that Theo had pointed right in between his eyes. Maia smiled grimly. She couldn't help it! It was funny! Longbottom looked ready to drop that plant he was holding and run. "I was wondering if you had seen…Harry Potter…"

"Please, excuse my friends over there. They are just overjoyed to see each other. Young **love**, eh? A summer **apart** can really put a strain on a **romantic relationship**. Hopefully, they won't be **snogging**the entire trip over to Hogwarts. And no," Theo replied in a conversational tone, like the weather outside was being discussed, but his wand was aimed. One thing was clear: After I'm through with Potter, Theo's next. "Why would we? If he had enough sense in his head – which a great deal of us doubt – he wouldn't be seen anywhere **near** the Slytherin compartments. Like this one for example, he wouldn't be in here. So, make yourself scarce or else I'll be forced to give your disgusting toad a companion. You know, personally, I think a fly would suit you perfectly…"

It was no surprise that Longbottom and his plant were gone in a flash. Grinning, Theo shut the compartment door; throwing off the livid glare that Maia was sending his way with practiced ease. Maia relinquished herself from Potter's hold, only noting the short gasp of relief for a moment, before slapping smartly him across the face. To Maia's annoyance, Potter seemed (after the initial shock) angry about the assault.

"What was **that** for?!" he asked hotly.

Maia's right eye twitched in frustration. She knew this was not what her father had in mind, but she felt that she was in the right. "What do you think that was for?" she demanded. "Here I am, sitting in **your **lap and then, as soon as your friend shows up, you suddenly get the urge to grab me!" The dark-haired girl then rounded on the smirking Theo. "Don't think I'm letting you get off easy, either! That's the best story you can come up with?! I'm now Potter's girlfriend?!"

Theo just laughed, taking his usual seat, which under normal circumstances would be across from her. Certainly, he was still across from her right now, but this wasn't normal. At all. And, damn it all, she wanted normalcy right now! Unfortunately, someone up there had a thing against her.

Potter, recovering once more to the outburst (didn't **anyone** yell at him? Did they all treat him like some kind of earthly god?), then retorted. "If you remember, **you** were the one to sit on my lap!"

"Because it's my seat!"

"Where does it say that only you and your friend," Potter nodded over to the unruffled Theo (who looked like he was enjoying every minute of this), "can sit here?!" Maia pointed to the plaque hung to the left of the door. There, on shiny brass, under an engraved cobra, was the inscription **'Snake's Haven, Slytherin compartment since 1889'**. And beneath that, were three names: Maia Knight, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. Potter's response? A simple, "Oh."

Maia, eye still twitching, got off of Potter (that did not sound right) and instead took the seat beside him. Withdrawing her wand from her sleeve, she held it casually in her hand. Though its tip, like Theo's was pointed directly at the Gryffindor trespasser. The only sounds were that of the train slowly making its way north towards Hogwarts, silence reigning.

Potter, after fidgeting a bit, finally sighed. Theo and Maia shared a skeptical look. "Listen," Potter began. "Can I sit here for the trip?"

Theo snorted. "You're joking, right? The **exalted** Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, gracing us humble members of the **dark** and **evil** Slytherin House with his presence in our compartment?" he mocked scathingly, causing Potter to flinch. Maia gave him a warning gesture, imperceptible, just a slight cutting motion with her hand. It wouldn't do to antagonize him…not if the mission were to go as planned. Though, she personally felt that the mission that her wonderful father gave her was going to end up nowhere in the end.

"What brought this on?" Maia inquired suspiciously. "If you hadn't noticed, your friends believe that any Slytherin walking innocently by to be a Death Eater in disguise." The blatantly distrustful glances that Ginny Weasley and several other members of Potter's little club sent towards any Slytherin proved that they were being watched carefully. It was more **annoying**, than anything else. They only had paltry dueling skills – they weren't taught since they were young how to fight. "Why do you want to sit with us?"

Potter cringed in disgust, but it was clear it wasn't because of them. "I just want some peace, okay? Everyone's been following me around, asking if I'm alright, do I need anything, you don't look so good," he spat. "Just a few moments without being watched." His eyes turned to her, Maia meeting his eyes without any pretension, anger, or sympathy. "That's why I did…that. Neville didn't see me, as you probably gathered. I'm sorry about that…Maia?" He gave her a puzzled look. "You're in my year?" Maia rolled her eyes, before nodding. Unsurprising that he didn't know her. Most people didn't. She made no attempts, like Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson, to make herself stick out like a sore thumb. "You look sort of familiar…"

"That's because," Theo interjected, "my best friend here does not participate in class a lot, much like myself and Blaise. Apparently, in the eyes of the majority of teachers, Slytherins aren't allowed to be academically excellent." His eyes were narrowed at Potter, accusing. "We all gave up soon after first year. It's why we like Potions so much, Professor Snape understands that we are given the short stick in everything."

"That's what makes us tougher than the rest," Maia put in. "Let me put it this way, Potter. In first year Transfiguration, Theo managed to turn his matchstick almost completely into a needle. All he needed was the hole to put the thread through. McGonagall just looked at it and flounced off. At the end of class, Hermione Granger was recognized for having a matchstick that had turned silver and pointy. Theo was completely ignored." Theo scowled and blasted a random corner to let off some steam. "Imagine that kind of treatment in almost every class. Is it any wonder why we gave up? It wasn't worth it. We only do what we do for ourselves. And Theo," Theo looked up at the sound of his name. "Please, next time, not near me." The area just two inches away from Maia's head was blackened and smoking.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. He then threw a disdainful look towards Potter, who looked to be pondering something…deep. Whatever it was, Maia didn't know. "So, should we let him stay? Or kick him out?"

"I don't know…Potter? You there?"

Her voice seemed to snap Potter back to attention. "Sorry, just thinking about…first year." He looked uncomfortable talking about it. "I won't bother you or anything. Did you know that this is the first time since June that anyone has talked to me **normally**? No hushed voices and all? Just let me stay, please."

Theo looked toward Maia for confirmation, which was given with a brief nod. "Fine, Potter. Welcome to Snake's Haven, one of the fabled Slytherin compartments, you have to be the only non-Slytherin in here since 1889. Be thankful for it. No trouble, no discrimination, we'll get along just beautifully. And your Gryffindor friends don't show up." He smirked at her, and then moved his head to avoid a curse. "We don't want you to have to use Maia again like that, do we? She's been through so much!" He deftly avoided another curse. To his credit, Potter looked amused.

"Deal."

"Watch it, Theo," Maia warned, though a smile lit up her face as she said it. Which lead to an expression of mock fear to flit across her guard's face. "I'll get you for that. And, yes, I've experienced worse."

"Like what?"

"My father is already picking out tentative names for my yet-to-be-conceived child." She was the recipient of two shocked glances, to which she shrugged. "You know how my Dad is! You don't, Potter, but Theo does." She couldn't help thinking that Potter did, in fact, know how her Dad acted, but he wasn't supposed to know that. "Obsessed with the usual stuff and continuing the family lineage. Thank Merlin he hates the idea of an arranged marriage. Or I'd be engaged to Malfoy." Maia's face contorted into a scowl. "Maia Malfoy."

"If that happens, my dear Lady Maia," Theo promised, smiling at her expression. "I promise to visit your house daily and keep you company."

"What about kidnapping me? I'd like that."

"Wait…" Potter interrupted. "You don't like Malfoy?" He didn't need a response, as their faces were enough to answer him. Potter opened his mouth to speak again, when there was a slight 'ping' noise and the compartment door slammed open. This time, neither Theo or Maia were alarmed, they just looked up. Potter did look alarmed, but relaxed soon enough when he saw whom it was.

"It's about time, Blaise," Theo quipped. "Where were you? You missed so much and we aren't even at school yet!"

A trunk made its jerky way up to the racks and Blaise followed after it, smashing the compartment door closed. He was much taller than any of the other occupants, looking a little over six feet. He was not thin and gangly, like Ron Weasley was, but more muscular and built. His shoulder-length hair was typically messy and free, its bright electric blue color extremely catching. Blaise then threw down the book he was carrying in his hands before shouting, his hazel eyes wild…

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! I WILL NOT BE PUT THROUGH ANYMORE OF THAT TORTURE! AND ALL OF YOU SERIOUSLY NEED TO GET YOUR HAIR DONE!" He pointed at Potter, his finger shaking. "ESPECIALLY YOU! WHAT IS THAT, A CROW'S NEST?!" Potter looked alarmed, but Maia and Theo shared a knowing glance.

"Bad time at the Flemmings?" Maia inquired gently. Blaise had his…moods. Bradley did say that Blaise's best asset as a bodyguard was his unbelievable unpredictability.

"YES, IT WAS A BAD TIME, MAI-" He then stopped short, now looking at her as if he had never seen her before in his life. "Maia? That **is** you, right?" Blaise then strode over to her and began poking her experimentally, until Maia swatted his hand away, giving him a glare. "Never mind, it is you. Extra duty?" She nodded. "Thought so. Wait a second…what's **Potter** doing here?"

"He's my fiancée," Maia said sarcastically. "Soon, I will be Maia Potter, wife of the famous Harry Potter, so on, so on, and so forth. I will give birth to two or three black-haired, green-eyed children, each having the innate ability to attract trouble as well as the instinctive gift to drive Professor Severus Snape up the walls and to the brink of insanity."

"Excellent, when's the wedding?"

* * *

"Fraternizing with the enemy much, Maia?"

"Shut it, Theo. And I don't want any comments from you, Blaise!"

"I wasn't going to say anything. It's natural for two people about to get married to want to be physically close to each other."

"I was being sarcastic earlier, Blaise."

"I can dream, Maia. And when I dream, I dream big."

"You **want** me to marry **Potter** of all people?!"

"It doesn't matter to us, really, Maia. But I have to agree with Blaise on this: it would be extremely funny if you did. And your dad would probably have a conniption fit."

"I don't think he'd have a conniption fit. I think he would erupt into an inferno of dark rage and anger, killing any and every single living thing in his path. I also doubt he'd walk me down the aisle in that case either."

"Which could be a good thing, right? The guest roster would be significantly larger if he wasn't there. And there wouldn't be a need to hold funerals afterward."

"Do you want me to cast a freezing charm on the both of you?" Silence. "I thought so."

The sky was darkening outside, the flaming sunset losing its fuel and fading into a demure purple and deep blue. The conversation in the compartment was quiet, a peaceful hush that was comforting and soothing. Inside were four students, one girl and four boys, all clad in the black robes of Hogwarts, though three badges proclaimed Slytherin, one for Gryffindor. Harry Potter, the sole Gryffindor in this compartment, was in a deep sleep, looking quite contented in his position.

Maia Knight, who was currently giving a look that promised death to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, was not so at ease with the current situation. For one thing, said Harry Potter was sleeping in her lap. And when you're the daughter of the most evil dark wizard in recent years, this was…weird. It had been like this for about an hour and a half, the more conscious boys valiantly trying to hold in their 'witty' remarks before they finally couldn't take it anymore. Maia let it go, deciding she might as well just deal with it. Potter looked like he hadn't slept in two months anyway. And if she were in his position, she wouldn't want to get woken up over that. She'd want to sleep.

"Anyway guys," Maia began, reaching to her pocket, all the while trying not to disturb Potter, withdrawing a green yo-yo. "I figured out this muggle thing – a yo-yo."

"Yo-yo?" Blaise repeated skeptically, taking it from her and examining it, jumping slightly when it clattered to the ground and he was only left with a thin white string in his hands. "Sounds like something Cordelia's friend from the States was talking about. Weirdo, really. Apparently, there's some kind of craze among the muggleborns, something called 'hip-hop'."

Theo snorted dismissively. "Purebloods from the States are weird enough, imagine the muggleborn ones. What does it do?"

Maia opened her mouth to answer, but the words never left her lips. At that moment, the compartment door slid open, interrupting her. Blaise and Theo were already on their toes, it was easy to see by their eyes. Though they soon relaxed, when they saw who it was. Maia herself? She sighed and hoped that this moment would pass…quickly.

Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms folded across his chest, his wand held casually in his pale hands. His pallid face was pulled in a smirk, his gray eyes taunting. His white-blond hair was pulled back in its usual slicked back style, a heavy gold chain around his neck – a trinket she had seen before on Malfoy Senior. All in all, he looked pretty much like his usual cocky self. And Malfoy was just **always **a joy to deal with, wasn't he? Maybe the Malfoy idiocy that her father relied so much upon (and made fun of) would shine through? "Hello, everyone," he said arrogantly. "Have anyone of you seen Maia Knight around? I was just looking for and –" It was at that moment he noticed the finger that Blaise was pointing towards her. He looked at her, smirking again, before his face froze, his eyes widening. Then the smirk appeared again. "Ah. Hello, Lady Maia."

Maia knew that look and what it entailed…and she did not like it one bit. And that tone…

This was bad. He called her 'Lady'. Which meant that…this was just one of those days, wasn't it?

"Hello, Malfoy," she answered back, her voice wary, already reaching for the wand lying beside her on the seat. This was made slightly difficult because of the sleeping boy on her lap. Indeed, when she shifted, he groaned slightly before resuming his nap. This caught Malfoy's immediate attention and his face went slack, his mouth dropping open in shock. Two bright pink blotches appearing on his pale cheeks.

"I knew you did ferrets," Maia said dryly, "but fish?" Theo rolled his eyes while Blaise looked on nonchalantly.

"Well, what do we expect from the estimable Draco Malfoy?" Theo jibed. "He is a man of many talents, most pertaining to quite remarkable feats of animal impression."

That seemed to snap Malfoy out of it and he angrily rounded on the dark-haired, glasses-wearing Slytherin. "Be quiet, Nott! I thought you were on my side, you helped out enough last year."

"But that was last year," Theo replied in a singsong voice. "And there was reason for that. Not anymore."

"What did I just say?" he said shrilly. "What is **Potter** doing here?! In a **Slytherin** compartment?! On **her** **lap**?!"

"Didn't you hear?" Blaise asked cordially. "He's Maia's fiancée. Incredible, isn't it? Especially when you consider their backgrounds…"

Maia bit her lip trying not to laugh at Malfoy's expression, which promptly turned angry. He promptly yelled out, "What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?! This is Potter! And Potter is going to be dead by the end of the year! The Dark Lord's going to torture him until he's begging for mercy and then slowly kill him! And then **I'll **have the honor of-" It was at this time that she noticed Potter's eyes fluttering open at the noise that Malfoy was making, though he still looked a bit out of it. That had to be the reason as to why he didn't move. All the while, Malfoy continued to list out the various implements of torture that the Dark Lord was capable of using, completely ignoring the signs that Theo was making: which included a finger across the lips, mouthed words to be quiet, and several curses which missed because Malfoy had a habit of moving his hands and head when he was raving. Blaise looked on, as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

"And this is a Slytherin compartment! **POTTER IS NOT AND NEVER WILL BE A SLYTEHRIN!"**

At that proclamation, the compartment door slammed open yet again. This time to reveal Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ginny Weasley. She heard Potter groan in frustration.

Personally, she couldn't blame him.

* * *

The portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses snoozed against their frames, though some valiantly tried to remain awake to listen to the conversation, but were failing. The window outside showed the clear visage of the starry sky, the lake glimmering with the shine of silver from the light of the full moon. The Forbidden Forest was dark and sinister, but the golden light coming from the small hut drove away some of the threatening shadows. A phoenix was perched on a stand, the red and gold of its plumage showy and bright, its intelligent eyes focused on the headmaster and his visitor.

"I gave you the notebook, headmaster," Snape growled, looking more annoyed then ever. "I didn't come here for lemon drops or tea. What did the book say?"

Shaking his head, Albus Dumbledore pulled out an open notebook from his desk drawer. It was rather ordinary looking, muggle-made and unremarkable save for the one taped phrase on its cover. Which, at the time, had made absolutely no sense to the greasy-haired potions master. Dumbledore, however, handled it carefully.

Emblazoned in green ink on the cover was the name Maia Christine Knight.

"It took forever to get Lestrange to get me a copy of the blasted thing," Snape sniped. "It has some kind of charm on it, so neither she or nor I could get it open." The younger man leaned back in his chair. "Why so interested in this girl, Albus? Is it because she's a Slytherin? She's done nothing wrong in the entire time that she was at Hogwarts and is quite intelligent. Eleven OWLs says a lot. She keeps out of trouble and has no known grudges."

Dumbledore merely chuckled. "Do you know why I had Harry Potter come to my office previously before? It was to open this notebook – though I covered the name, of course. The password must be said in Parseltongue."

"Parseltongue?" Snape questioned, before he sat up ramrod straight, eyes rod. "You mean that-"

"Yes, Ms. Knight is the daughter of Voldemort. She just had taken the name of her mother, though looks nothing like her. Takes more after her father's side – the Slytherin side – of her heritage. You remember Gloria, do you not?"

A derisive snort. "How can't I? She had probably been with every single honest-to-goodness male during her time at Hogwarts that could breathe. I think five times with Black and eight with Potter, and they were two years younger. I myself? Probably twice." Snape spared the notebook a hateful glance. "I knew that she was her daughter and was happy that she wasn't following in her mother's footsteps."

"I personally don't think it is in her nature to. She reminds me much of her grandmother." A sad smile passed over the old headmaster's face, as he leafed through the pages of the notebook. "The resemblance is uncanny and not just in features. I can tell by just reading this. The spell is cast so that it updates with the original?"

"Of course. Granted, Lestrange just wanted to get back at the girl…for something. I didn't hear the entire story."

"Hmm…well. It doesn't say exactly what Voldemort's plans are currently…"

"So the thing is garbage?! Do you know that I had to give Lestrange fifty galleons and a gallon of restoration potion for her 'precious face' for this thing?! That takes hours to make just **one pint** and I have much better things to do than whip up cosmetics for homicidal bitches!"

"Actually, Ms. Knight was given the task to seduce Mr. Potter, then to lure him over to her father so that he could kill him."

"…That's actually a good plan. But who in their right mind would like Potter? He's a scrawny little thing with glasses and a crow's nest for hair as well as an alarming tendency to try to get himself killed."

"She also mentioned reservations…and, apparently, the Dark Lord has a soft spot for his daughter."

"You're joking."

"I'm assuring you, Severus, that I'm not."

"…That could work to our advantage. She's here in our territory. Daddy can't protect her, now can he?"

"Well, it does give an interesting insight into the trials of a teenage Slytherin girl who happens to be the daughter of the Dark Lord. Did you know that you're considered somewhat of a sex god to the older girls of the Hogwarts population?" concluded Dumbledore blithely, a large smile gracing his face.

"Honestly, who'd go for Pot – I'M A WHAT?!"

* * *

This was the longest chapter so far in Dark Reflections. In this chapter, Maia is more frustrated than anything else. This chapter was created to move the plot along, as well as to show the Slytherin point of view as well as opening the relationship between Harry and Maia.

Next chapter: in which Blaise reveals exactly **what** the dreaded monkey trick exactly is at the worst possible time (a.k.a. breakfast), Malfoy getting in the way, a jealous Pansy and Cordelia, Theo being 'forced' to use violence, Theo's sister being a matchmaker, Dumbledore being himself, more Gryffindor/Slytherin clashes, Snape, rumors that Harry Potter is engaged to an influential Slytherin heiress in the newspapers, infiltration of the Gryffindor common room, and Maia and Harry in a rather uncomfortable situation due to the fact that he left his Charms homework behind.

---Raven Dragonclaw


	4. In Which Harry and Malfoy are Understand...

_Disclaimer_: I only own Maia, the plot, and anything that you don't recognize.

* * *

**Dark Reflections**

* * *

**Chapter Four  
In Which Harry and Malfoy Are Understandably Confused**

_Sigh. It's been one hectic two weeks._

_Yes, sigh. On paper, mind you._

_I got through the usual beginning-of-the-year talk with Professor Snape, as is the tradition that happens every year. As far as we know, from Steph, the professor is the only head of house that does this to his students. He does it every year at the beginning, middle, and the end of each year. It's his way of checking up on all of us, keeping an eye on us. Discusses our friends, home life, how are classes doing, that sort of thing. From then on, a couple of the kids in sixth year in the house are chosen to look after them when the professor can't, at least until they get settled, which is usually around the end of second year. It's a requirement that the said student maintain their ties with their older student (at least until said older kid graduated)._

_Never say that Professor Snape doesn't give a damn about us._

_I remember my 'watcher', as it were. Her name was Hypatia Macklin. We didn't get along too well. She was extremely prissy, even more so than Cordelia. And that's saying something. I just made up some crap that she didn't listen to, so on and so forth. I guess it served her right at the end of my second year, when Professor Snape gave her twenty detentions during the last month of term. He was furious (you could tell, because his robes…**billow** more than usual). Hypatia was apparently intimidating a then firstie into setting fire to the bubotubers in Greenhouse Three._

_But no one really paid attention to that since Harry Potter went into the Chamber of Secrets thing. Ah well._

_I got a few kids this year: Gustavo Landry, Varian Ezekiel, and Frances Raleigh. I find it strange that Professor Snape would trust me with these three though. All three of them are halfbloods and here they are assigned to the Dark Lord's daughter. Of course, my first gift of advice was to tell them not to talk about their families. Or maybe it isn't so odd. No one knows about that little facet about my…heritage. Maybe it's because I take Muggle Studies. And as far as the girls in my year go, I'm probably considered the least likely to go 'dark' in the eyes of the typical obsessed light fanatic._

_There are a lot of them around lately. According to the usual Hogwarts grapevine, a couple of students have been trying to promote the side of the Light (I hate saying that!). Most seem to be of Potter's DA club. Personally, I'm surprised Granger hasn't been handing out pamphlets. The way that they're doing it is the worst kind of advertising: the blatantly annoying kind. They're not going to get true believers; they're going to get those who just joined to get them to shut up. Steph mentioned something about a previous movement among the Gryffindors about house elves that Granger started. What it entailed exactly, I didn't know. House elves should do what they wish. But it had something to do with 'spew'. I may not be some media mogul or anything like that, but that alone would repel potential people. But that's just me._

_It's been horrible walking into the commons lately. Malfoy's been hitting on me and he isn't being exactly…discreet about it, if you will. Unfortunately for him, I'm not very interested. If he would lose the 'stuck-up bastard' attitude (or at least diminish it to at most around 58 of the time), I probably would give him a shot. Doesn't seem likely that he will, though. Problem: nearly all of the girl population of Slytherin dislikes me now because of it. I don't see why they like him so much. Sort of like how the older girls (and, according to Theo, some of the older **guys**) are infatuated with Snape. That in itself just boggles me._

_But it seems no matter how many times I tell them, they won't believe me that I'm not interested in Malfoy and that they could have him for all I care. I do feel sorry for Pansy, though. She's had her eye on him since first year and they went to the Yule Ball together in fourth year. At the time, she was squawking about it like some puffed-up duck that she was going with **the** Draco Malfoy, while Millicent went with Vincent Crabbe, Cordelia with some Hufflepuff boy, and I went with Theo. Why Theo? I broke up with my first boyfriend at the time, Kenneth Bates (a Ravenclaw 5th year then) when Steph reported to me that he was trying to nab Cho Chang as his date._

_Revenge was sweet. He had no date. Ha._

_…Moving on._

_But let me put it down straight: Draco Malfoy maybe is sort of cute, but I am not interested in him at all. End of story. Caput. Finite. Done. I wipe my hands clean of the matter._

_I better head off to detention now with Professor Snape, who thankfully interceded into the situation. Thank Merlin that he understands! Though we didn't get in trouble in Potions (obviously), but rather with Professor Hartwell. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Idiot. He doesn't teach the things that Death Eaters **would** use in a fight. I think I would know. Also he can't defend himself at all in a hand-to-hand fight. It was that part that got me in trouble. Worst yet, he knew my mother. Intimately, as it were. Joy. You could see it on his perverted face when he came to the last name of 'Knight' on the roll, that self-satisfied smirk. Probably thinks that I'm easy like my dear mother was. He couldn't be more wrong._

_Blaise and Theo will be with me during the session. They also were…involved. You can't blame them, they were trained to be my bodyguards and protect me! Instinctively. Besides, they're my best friends! Let's not forget the fact that a professional assassin/Death Eater (a nice one, but still) raised me! And Hartwell didn't exactly say it was a demonstration. So we shouldn't be in trouble for knocking him out and giving him some really nasty bruises (from Blaise, who had woken up and wasn't happy to begin with)/flooring him (a la moi) /smashing him into the chalkboard (courtesy of a very late Theo). The stupid excuse for a professor was practically crying (though he was definitely whining) when he reported us to Snape. To our Head's credit, he looked like he was thinking the exact thing as we were: Hartwell's a prick. A prissy prick, if one was to continue on. Blaise managed a complete twelve word alliteration of "p", those previous words, and the professor in a burst of creative genius that gained instant appreciation from all those who had a brain that had heard it. What do you expect from the person who created 'Weasley is our King!" (even if the Gryffindors ruined it)?_

_Professor Snape rules._

_**-----Maia**_

_P.S. Sadly, I still haven't given back Potter's Charms essay yet. Thank goodness that Flitwick hasn't collected it yet. Though Blaise says he has a plan. Theo has this…grin. Needless to say, I'm apprehensive about all this…_

_P.P.S. The Falmouth Falcons are first in the National League!_

"See, Headmaster? Look at her last comment before she finishes the entry. She's an intelligent girl, much better than Granger."

"Most assuredly, Severus. But I don't think the Head Girl nomination should be given to a girl simply because she has **fantastic **taste in professional Quidditch teams."

"…I didn't mean it in terms of Quidditch, Headmaster."

"Then on what terms do you mean? Her last comment is about her favorite Quidditch team."

"…Never mind."

* * *

"Personally, I don't know why we're bothering."

"We're bothering because we'll lose points if we don't show up."

"I know that, Blaise. But you know how Defense Against the Dark Arts is! We haven't had a decent teacher since Lupin and even then, we didn't focus on dueling, but on magical creatures."

"Sad but true. We'll just have to put up with this latest failure like we have done for the past five years. By the way, where's Theo?"

"Left a book about Transfiguration theory in the dorm. Went to go get it."

"He should have known better than to come to this class without something to do. What do you have?"

"The Importance of Magical Runes in Ancient Civilizations. You?"

"That muggle thing…paddle with the red rubber ball attached to it by a string. That…thing."

Two students joined the excited throng that was gathered outside the classroom, both looking out of place. Indeed when they arrived, they stood slightly away from the others, leaning against the wall in the shadows. One was a tall boy with violently long blue hair in expensive robes, who had promptly began to play paddleball while talking quietly to his companion. The other was a moderately pretty girl with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, much shorter than her friend. The main things that separated them from the rest were the badges on their robes. Very few individuals from Slytherin deemed it worth the time to bother taking the class again when in the past it had proven to be nothing more than a waste of time. And very few individuals outside Slytherin would welcome them into their conversations.

Blaise Zabini and Maia Knight did not even bother pushing their luck.

Most of the talk seemed to be centered on a young man with glasses and messy dark hair. Near him stood a tall gangly boy with red hair and a freckled face, beside him also a bushy haired girl that was talking a mile a minute. Almost everyone appeared to be drawn to him…though he didn't look like he enjoyed it much. More than once his gaze turned to the girl and the boy in the darkened corner, almost longingly. But neither Maia nor Blaise noticed this. Their conversation had shifted to how Arithmancy was the chosen favorite subject of the devil, along with many quite convincing arguments for this point of view.

"Draco? Draco!" Pansy screeched in indignation. Draco Malfoy, however, wasn't paying attention to the pug-faced girl. The blonde aristocrat was instead focusing all his interest on Maia (she didn't see this), an intense gray gaze fixed on the oblivious girl, a sly smile gracing his face, his thoughts completely somewhere else entirely. While Pansy was completely besotted with him, she wasn't an idiot. She glanced at Maia with hurt in her eyes, before turning to Malfoy with considerable ire. "Draco, sweetie?"

Malfoy merely grunted in response, still looking at Maia. Pansy's eyes narrowed even more, though she kept her tone completely innocuous. "I was wondering what you would think about this." No answer from the still spaced-out blonde. "If you had the chance, would you grab Weasley over there and snog him senseless in the nearest broom closet?" Still nothing.

Pansy bristled in obvious agitation. "Draco!" she shouted into his ear, which did effectively bring him back down to Earth. He gave her an annoyed glare, but she covered up her expression of fury. "Would you?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said offhandedly. He then resumed staring at Maia. Seconds later, the smirk was forming again. Obviously, he wasn't paying attention. Upset, Pansy flounced off to the object-of-Malfoy's-desire and said object's blue-haired friend. If she wasn't going to be the one he was looking at, at least she was in the view.

"Hey, Pansy," Maia greeted warmly. "Surprised you bothered, as well." Seeing the look on her face, the dark-haired girl gave a grim sigh. "Malfoy again? I told you already. I don't like him and that he's all yours."

"I know that, I only joined up because _he_ did," Pansy replied back. She sniffed in wounded pride. "There's no point in talking to him. I mean, if he just admitted that he would want to bang Weasley in a closet-"

Blaise gave a low wolf whistle, still playing paddleball as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Didn't know he swung that way. You shouldn't bother with him then." He gave her a sorrowful look, while placing his free hand on her shoulder, completely ignoring Maia's chuckles and Pansy's expression of shock. "There isn't any point in going after one that doesn't even go for your gender. Think of it this way, he's not worth it. You deserve much better. I mean, if he's actually willing to go at it with Weasley…" The teen's expression contorted with a grimace, letting his face tell the rest. The two girls erupted into appreciative laughter.

The door of the classroom opening, revealing the handsome countenance of Professor Hartwell, interrupted the moment. It didn't escape Maia how his glance took in the faces of every girl waiting outside, lingering on that of Parvati Patil's for a long moment as well as Granger's. He didn't look in the corner, so he didn't see herself, Blaise, or Pansy. Which she was thankful for, actually. From first glance, it seemed as if they were stuck with another…dud.

Blaise was the epitome of calmness – well as calm as you can look while playing paddleball. The glare at the Slytherin badge did not go unnoticed as they walked in, Maia being one of the last to enter the room. She and Blaise took desks near the back, by the window. Placing her bag on the seat of an empty desk (for Theo when he showed up), she took out her textbook, a few leaflets of parchment, a quill, as well as the book that would provide her distraction from the inevitable boredom that would accompany a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Though she did hold some admiration for her blue-haired friend – seriously, he was good at paddleball.

"Well!" She winced at the utter…happiness that this blonde and clean-cut professor exuded. _Great. Now not only do I have Arithmancy to hate, but now also DADA. Fantastic._ "I'm Professor Hartwell, you're new DADA teacher. Hopefully, I last longer than just a year." He sat on the desk, smiling a grin that seemed to include the entire class. It certainly put most of the students at ease. In the front row, like they were nearly every year, she saw the Golden Trio visibly relax, exchanging glances that plainly showed acceptance. Maia, on the other hand, was not so easily placated. Besides, she hated happy people. Though she personally attributed this trait to her father – he preferred people serious, grave, afraid. Not cowering in fear, however, but still afraid.

Yeah.

So she wasn't as muggle-hating as her ancestors, that didn't mean she wasn't Slytherin. Not meaning the house name, but the family. Even when the family changed their name, it didn't change their actions. If anyone found out that she was a direct-line Arsenys (and it wasn't widely known that the Arsenys family were in fact, Slytherins), she'd be thrown out, if not lynched. It was why she carried her mother's name. Sure, Gloria Knight had hardly given it a good reputation, but the Knights were considered to be among the more tolerable pureblood families.

Silence reigned for a brief moment before the rhythmic rapping of the paddleball became apparent. Most of the class turned to look at Blaise with scowls and dirty looks, but Blaise really didn't care. Hartwell's smile tightened at the sight – evidently, he wasn't used to the cool reception that Blaise was giving. He had better get used to it.

"As I don't know you all," Hartwell continued, "why don't you tell me your names and something about yourselves." He started at the other end of the room, so, logically, Maia didn't really have to worry too much until the end. Besides, she didn't really hold Neville Longbottom's toad Trevor in so high a regard that she'd pay attention to the drivel of the amphibian's loyalty any day.

In about ten minutes, they had gotten to where the Slytherins were gathered in their little collective group near the back. It was obvious from the change in Hartwell's tone that he didn't like them. Maia rolled her eyes at his lackluster remark to Pansy. _The feeling's mutual, imbecile._ Draco and Pansy were terse and direct, barely saying more than ten words. Then they needed to explain that Theo was late, which lost five points. Another ten points were lost because Blaise fell asleep (more accurately, through Lavender Brown's accolades to Divination _twit_). Nevertheless, he still was playing paddleball while snoozing away. A further five were lost for not waking Blaise up.

Though this last one was worth the loss. Everyone in Slytherin knew, Malfoy especially, that you **_don't_**wake up a sleeping Blaise unless you have a death wish. Everyone learned that on the first day, when Goyle was not only beat up, but hogtied up in a sheet (Goyle was still in boxers) and dragged down to the common room, where Blaise promptly explained that this was a 'warning'.

Finally, it was her turn. Hartwell seemed relieved about it. "You, young lady? Your name and something about yourself."

"Maia Knight," she simply replied. She had prepared her reply that claimed she hated Arithmancy (everyone said which subject they liked, not what they hated…losers). But she was interrupted by the professor's gasp of surprise and…Maia's left eye started twitching (another thing she shared with her father).

Happiness. Didn't this guy frown?! Or at least, stop smiling?!

"Knight?" Hartwell was practically jumping for joy. And that was not lost on the rest of the class. "You mean like the Knight family of Manchester?" Maia nodded wordlessly. Of course, she had only been to Manchester to pay homage to the grave her mother's **respectable** brother Charles (her father killed him, personally) and to see what she inherited. That's it really. But where was this going? "Are you by chance related to Gloria Knight? She was a…very good friend of mine. **_Very_** good friend."

Maia sent a wide-eyed look at the professor, complete with raised eyebrow. _This cannot be happening_. She did not need an admirer (probably more than just one) as her teacher. This was disgusting, wrong! And it would most likely embarrass her. She did not want anyone comparing her to…her mother. That was insulting, as well as demeaning to her pride! And pride was one thing that Maia held dear. "She was my mother," Maia answered tightly, her fists curling beneath the desk out of sight. She did not like the curious glances that she was getting…

"Excellent!" The smile was obviously fake now. "Perhaps you can send her a message for me. That old Markie says hi. Maybe we could arrange a meeting-"

"I'm afraid you would need a medium for that, sir," was Maia's dry response. Great. Not only did he know her mother, the idiot didn't even know Gloria Knight was dead. _Why can't I have a normal life? You know, with my friends, a decent mother, and a father that doesn't look like an albino snake who would never go around killing people?_ Was that too much to ask? It certainly seemed like it. "She died when I was three months old."

"Oh." As predicted, he wasn't too thrilled about that. But, if you consider that he had a thing for her mother, then the guy would get over it soon enough. "I'm sorry for your loss then." Maia shrugged indifferently. Personally, she thought she was better off without her. And Bradley was cool. She certainly wasn't in want for a mother figure. Hartwell was giving her an intent look, one that she didn't like. The same went for Potter, but it was more out of compassion and sympathy than of (what she assumed) lover's jealousy. In this case, Hartwell's anger that Gloria Knight had a kid with someone else. _Though, seriously, I would not want to see the result of that union. Look what happened with me. _Across the aisle, she didn't see Malfoy presenting the professor as well as Potter with a quite menacing warning look. Though that latter fact had to do more with the little detail that Maia never paid much attention to what Draco Malfoy did anyway.

"I...see…you really don't look too much like her." _No, really? Of course I don't look like her!_ Maia didn't have blonde hair, pale skin, and a perfectly flawless face of regal beauty, nor was she tall or have the slight figure. She was darker in hair and complexion, she wasn't that bad looking, and if her petite figure was anything to go by, then she was all curves and legs. Which, if Malfoy's behavior in the commons and the fact that her ex-boyfriend of two years ago was trying to talk to her, did appeal to some people.

She wasn't very appreciative of the attention. No, not at all.

"Well, perhaps you can help me with this demonstration!" No, Maia wasn't appreciative, or amused, in the very least. _Must you practically jump for bloody joy when you talk? No, I wouldn't like to help you!_ But she was obliged to: Hartwell hadn't phrased his exclamation as a question. As she stood up, she felt a hand brush hers before she made her way to the front. She looked over to see Malfoy smiling at her…and behind him, Pansy looking like the apocalypse would give the blonde more mercy than she would. She passed the still sleep-paddling Blaise, to stand in front of Hartwell's desk.

"I'm now going to show you," Hartwell started, "how easily a person can be overpowered." Maia refrained from showing a look of utter boredom. Bradley covered this when she was eight – both in Death Eater and Auror usages of self-defense. She was okay at it, nothing brilliant or notable. "This method is quick and simple…"

Still, he just **had** to choose her. A sense of foreboding twisted her stomach as Hartwell went into the most typical technique that Aurors used to hold a person: the grab of the wand hand and hitting a pressure point in the lower back. This would effectively not only hurt a lot, but also weaken you. It took most of her self-control to not just demonstrate on Hartwell **exactly** how to get out of this. Looking across the class, she saw that most of the students were eagerly waiting for the result of this. Weasley, in particular, was looking like he was watching a very interesting show. Granger appeared skeptical, while Potter…she couldn't really decipher what went on in his mind.

Though that probably had something to do with being the daughter of his enemy. Not her fault.

Pansy's face was frozen in an expression of cold distaste, probably toward how the teacher chose a Slytherin out of every person in the class to display what would be a very painful maneuver. She had been especially vocal as to how the rest of the houses were spying on them, like they were planning to kill every single person in their sleep. Malfoy, however, was shaking with rage. Blaise…was still asleep?!

"The technique is performed like-" She sighed and waited for the inevitable pain.

It never came. Rather, several large crashes, a rather girly scream followed by quite a few startled shouts. Maia blinked before smirking slightly.

…Yep. Blaise was absolutely **lethal** when woken up.

* * *

Maia Knight hated mornings. 

She groaned at the sound of the alarm, it's overly cheerful rings far too cheerful for her that morning. Or any morning for that matter. Half-heartedly, Maia tried to block out the noise by putting her head to her pillow, but to no avail. Without a doubt, she would get used to it – she did so every year – but the beginning of term was always the toughest. During the summer, she had awoken to the sound of a funeral march. Her father had a very macabre personality (this was a well-known fact) and it gave him a good mood to start the day off with. Never mind that it sounded as if the Grim Reaper had come to visit the house to take one of its inhabitants to the Great Beyond…whatever.

But until they all got up, that thing would not stop its perturbing jingle. This, of course, was made exceedingly difficult – Millicent was a very heavy sleeper. Even as Maia dragged herself out of bed, succeeding in only toppling to the floor, the larger girl slept on. Through the gap in the curtains, she blearily saw Millicent's mouth open, snoring, though its volume was severely diminished by three strong silencing charms. It was the only way the other girls would be able to get any sleep at night. Moaning again, she picked herself up and preserved to the bathroom, where she was able to shut out the noise for at least a little while.

The last girl in their year, Daphne Greengrass, wasn't present in this dorm room. This was nothing new or shocking. A raging and jealousy-mad Pansy kicked out the girl when Daphne said she was dating Draco Malfoy. Daphne had to spend a week in the hospital wing due to the curses and hexes Pansy used. Seeing where a problem could arise, Professor Snape moved Daphne to the now-fifth year girls' dormitory. Though she and Draco stopped dating two weeks after the whole incident, Daphne made no attempts to move back in with them. After awhile, Maia herself stopped thinking of Daphne as part of their year. It's just one of those things that affect the way you think of people.

She took a seven minute shower, like she always did. All of them did – there were four of them in there after all. The steam billowing out as she stepped back into the main dormitory, in only a fluffy light green towel and her hair wrapped up around her head in another, Maia growled at the still prevalent sound of the alarm going off. Cordelia was hiding her head under a pillow while Pansy was sitting up, firing curses, all of which reflected. Reaching the end of her patience, she strode over to her bed and pulled out from underneath a muggle baseball bat made of metal.

Bradley had given her this for Christmas five years ago, thinking that this was the epiphany of all muggle things as well as a very good weapon.

_He had the last part right_, was Maia's thought as she raised the baseball high above her head to bring down on the hellish machine.

Two minutes later, the now blissful silence of the dormitory was shattered by two screams of surprise and one shriek of indignation. Pansy and Cordelia immediately pulled the curtains of their beds closed. Millicent practically jumped out of bed at the sounds, grabbing a pair of magical nunchaku that she kept by her bed for probably the same reasons Maia kept her bat. The way she got into a martial arts stance reminded of some movie that Bradley liked to watch starring some guy named Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan.

Muttering angrily and bat still in tow – for this was **_not_**a good way to start off a day and one never knew when they might need it – she went out the dormitory door, pulling the wide-eyed and shocked Draco Malfoy by the hand with her. When they reached the hallway, she closed the door behind her, shaking her head at what was no doubt about to happen on the inside. Not to her surprise, she heard Pansy's squeals and frantic running to the bathroom joined with Millicent's questioning grunts.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, not looking at him but concentrating on the door. She wanted to make sure that Pansy didn't throw a fit or something. Those were never good. "I assume you had a good reason for using your prefect status to come over to the girls' dormitories."

He didn't answer. Which only got her more annoyed.

Nevertheless, she turned to Malfoy, who was looking at her like he had never seen anything quite like her. She gave him a skeptical look, because lately she had been wondering if he really was 'all there' so to speak. It was then that she noticed exactly **why** he was staring.

It was because she was still wearing only a towel. And he was staring blatantly at her body – in particular, her chest.

Putting a finger under his chin so he could look at her **face**, Maia said in a low, threatening voice, holding his gray gaze with her own brown one, "Just because I'm only in a towel and wearing absolutely **_nothing_** underneath does not give you the right to eye me like some piece of candy. Got that?"

She wrenched open the door and went back into the dormitory, slamming it shut and leaving Malfoy outside. She needed to get dressed.

Maia Knight hated mornings. She was never in a good mood then, especially when woken up by an evil alarm clock. After breakfast, she usually returned to her normal, less-prone-to-violence-or-curses (or, as Blaise called it, when she wasn't in the throes of her 'Slytherin tendencies') self.

She didn't see Draco Malfoy drop to the floor, still sporting that shocked look. Nor did she hear him say, "Merlin, that was _better _than the _dream_."

* * *

"I heard something happened in the Slytherin dormitories between you and Malfoy. And **sordid** details?"

"Leave it, Steph."

"C'mon! I'm the best girl friend that you've got! I can't imagine you talking about it to my dear older brother. He just isn't the type – and he'd probably go after Malfoy and beat him to a pulp."

"Actually, I've been considering…"

"Maia!"

"Just kidding, Steph."

Maia always felt that she was decently tall – not too short, not too tall. Just about right. But when she was next to her best friend, she always felt a bit like a giant. She always assumed there was something in the Nott genes that promoted smallness of stature. But Steph was one of the prettiest girls in her year and got along with everyone, unlike her Slytherin brother.

Amarantha Stephania Nott, commonly known as 'Steph' to friends and housemates, was about 4 feet, 9 inches. She used this value more often because the height difference sounded more incredible. Steph Nott was no stranger to the uses of exaggeration and hyperbole. She was, in short (pun not intended), a drama queen. Where her brother Theodore had dark hair and olive skin, Steph was blonde and pale. They even had different eye colors. Theo had confessed to her that they were actually half-siblings, but Steph didn't know that. And Theo loved his sister too much to care about the technicalities. Even if they showed their affection by arguing.

Also, where Theo was quiet, sarcastic, and understated – Steph was loud, outrageous, and direct. Not to mention, boy-mad. But both were the most reliable sources of information within all of Hogwarts – Theo through stealth, Steph through connections.

"Don't clam up on me, Maia!" Steph pleaded, pouting in disappointment. "I hear all these second year girls practically screeching how evil you are to take away all chances of the **_handsome_** and **_dreamy_ **Draco Malfoy away from them." The shorter girl flashed her a sly grin. "Something about you strutting in front of him starkers? Here I thought you were supposed to be catching _someone else's_ attention."

Maia scowled, growing tired of this explanation. "He burst into our dormitory," she replied tersely. "To spare the dignity of Cordelia and Pansy, as well as the Malfoy family jewels if Millicent got her hands on him, I dragged him out of the room. I was only wearing a towel because I had just come out of the shower." She shook her head and growled angrily, drawing a look of disapproval from the painting woman named Violet as they passed. "I don't see what's the big deal! Besides, I'm not even remotely _interested_ in Draco Malfoy!"

Steph waved this off as if it were nothing. To her, it probably was. "You may not be, but he's certainly interested in you. He hasn't been exactly subtle, you know." She grinned widely. "So, Pansy got to you already."

"Don't get me wrong, Pansy's a good person. But mention Draco Malfoy and she goes crazy. Remember what happened to Daphne Greengrass three years ago?"

"How could we not? Those were some nasty spells," the blonde concurred. Steph sent a flirtatious grin and a blue-eyed wink at some Hufflepuff boys, who eagerly waved back. With a flip of her shoulder-length hair, she caught up with Maia again, who did not bother to wait up. "Can't wait until we get to breakfast, if this is what a bad morning's like. By the way, nice look. Does this have to do with…"

"Yes. It's too bad that I won't be getting **_his_** attention if we go by how his taste in girls goes." Her father told her to grab attention and she was doing just that. It was scary to hear the sort of things that her father said Potter liked (when questioned about this, he mentioned something about a mind link and not to ask) about girls.

Only problem was, Maia was hardly any of those things. Potter liked sporty girls, ones who were nice and popular. The kind that would snuggle up with teddy bears even if they were seventeen years old. The kind who were feminine and delicate but could still put up a fight.

Right. She was practically the antithesis of this idea. As Blaise pointed out to her, very bluntly, she was not sporty. Quidditch was something she never took seriously, even if she loved watching it as a spectator. She was popular among _Slytherins_, who were practically regarded as a entirely different species in Hogwarts in these days. She wasn't exactly 'nice' – friendly and approachable, as well as witty and intelligent – but 'nice'? Nope. She got rid of that proverbial teddy bear when she was three. And it wasn't even a teddy bear but a stuffed werewolf. She was feminine, but hardly delicate.

_"You're feminine, Maia. But you're not delicate. You've got an edge and self-confidence. To be put mildly, you've got that dangerous look. You know you've got power and authority and aren't afraid to use it. You've had it before even when before the summer when you weren't…you get my idea. And that is the opposite of what Potter allegedly likes."_

Theo then added to Blaise's assessment, for good measure, _"But it's what Malfoy certainly likes."_

Theo was given a sharp rap to the head with her baseball bat.

At the moment, she was wearing high-heeled ankle boots, her green socks reaching mid-calf. Instead of the usual white, she wore a dressy silk green shirt under the usual sweatervest. The skirt was black and knee-length, longer than the Hogwarts skirts so McGonagall couldn't complain. The green-and-silver tie was being used to tie her French braid. But the robes were usual Hogwarts standard. She turned to Steph, asking, "I suppose Theo told you?"

"Yep," Steph nodded. "And I have to agree with Blaise. You aren't what **_he's_**looking for-" Maia didn't hear the rest of what Steph said, and she turned around. _I could have sworn that I saw something…something blonde…_ "It was probably a ghost," her friend remarked nonchalantly, without even asking. "Theo does it all the time at home."

Brushing this aside, they walked into the Great Hall to be greeted with an interested sight. This sight was occurring at the Gryffindor table, whose occupiers were not amused at all, for the instigator of this was a Slytherin. Ron Weasley was red as a beet, while the ever-creative Blaise Zabini was waving a banana in front of his face.

The monkey trick – something that really got condescension across in a truly humorous way. It involved waving a banana in front of the offending person's face while dancing around them in a very amusing boogie in time to a very catchy jingle. Then, at the end, you are to smash the banana in the person's face. It was imperative that you kept the peel for the getaway (there was a trick to this part, ask Blaise for details), because the 'monkey' slipping on the banana peel would not only buy time but add to the hilarity.

Blaise Zabini was a master of advertising and propaganda, as one would imagine from the creator of that smash-hit _'Weasley is our King!_'. But if you really wanted to make it awful, then Maia had to hand it to Blaise. Recruiting Peeves was a stroke of brilliance.

Peeves was playing an accordion (rather well) to add to the situation and dancing along as well. They were reaching the end verse…

_  
Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey  
__Wanna banana-nana  
__Bad monkey, monkey, monkey  
__You can't get a banana-nana  
__'Cause you smashed it in your face!_

The coup de grace! Peeves cackled as Blaise smashed the banana and took off. He gave the two girls a triumphant grin as he streaked by. Weasley, his face covered in banana, took two steps before slipping on the strategically dropped banana peel before falling on his ass. Neville Longbottom, who was passing by with a new plant, was so startled by this that he fell on top of Weasley. The plant was not pleased and splattered them with slime.

The Great Hall burst out laughing and she could swear that Snape was actually smiling. And Dumbledore seemed to be muttering over the words to the song – to McGonagall's dismay.

"Now that, Steph, is true beauty."

"Hear, hear to that!"

* * *

For one Harry Potter, he was just looking for some place quiet. Peaceful, where no one would come up to him, asking him if he were alright. He had quite enough of that when he was at Grimmauld Place and in the Gryffindor common room. But right now, just some peace. And it seemed that the only place that he would find that peace would be in the library. Here, everyone had something to do, so there was no real chance to talk to anyone on anything other than schoolwork, so the conversation was small and low. Also, it was easy to just slip into some quiet niche where no one could find you. And because of Madame Pince's firm rule of silence reigning supreme in this realm of books and information, there was no doubt that tranquility was guaranteed – after all, it was practically a law here.

He did want some alone time, away from all the questions and worried glances. The last time he remembered being talked to normally was two weeks ago in that Slytherin compartment on the train. Granted, he doubted that either Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, or Maia Knight cared all too much about his well-being. They weren't exactly long-time friends with him, he thought with a frown as he dragged his eyes along the pages of his transfiguration textbook, not really taking in the real words.

It was a pity really – and he did feel a twinge of regret when he thought about how much fun he had on that train ride. For the first time in many months, he had actually laughed. And that short nap, though interrupted by a raving and angry Malfoy, was the best he had in a long time. He didn't know why that was. Perhaps it was just because he was comfortable with the fact that they wouldn't discourage or encourage him – he was there and they saw him for both his strengths and his flaws.

Harry did keep an eye out for them in classes and in the hallways. They all shared the same Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He found out that Maia and Blaise both took Arithmancy, though Maia seemed quite vocal as to how much she despised the subject. Theo's electives were Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Blaise had the latter as well, while Maia took (and when she confessed this, he thought he had a small heart attack) Muggle Studies. All three were in the History of Magic class, due to his abysmal performance on the OWLs he wasn't taking.

And they were right: they were quiet. And with the exception of Snape and the new teacher Hartwell, none of them seemed to get any recognition in their classes. Granted, Hartwell's attention towards them seemed to lean more to fear than appreciation of their talents. Most of the time, they seemed bored in that class.

Every time he had tried to speak to one of them, he was always stopped. He couldn't talk to them with Ron or Hermione with him. They wouldn't like him 'fraternizing with the enemy', as Ron put it. Sure, Hermione wouldn't say anything, but she would get that look that he hated to get. Also, Malfoy seemed to be tailing Maia everywhere. Each time that they caught each other's eye while in her presence, Malfoy always gave this smug smirk combined with a malicious stare. Probably because they were in the same house and he was the Gryffindor.

Maia was the one that he tried to get to most often. He knew that Theo and Blaise were slightly more approachable in terms of convenience, but she seemed to be the key to gaining that group's trust – something he found himself wanting. Harry sensed that they were good people past that sarcastic exterior and would make powerful allies. And Maia seemed to be their ringleader. Blaise and Theo always listened to her, in the sort of way that Crabbe and Goyle listened to Malfoy, but he could tell that they were all friends and not followers.

Not to mention, he was a bit curious about her…

But it never failed – he never had the chance to get near her without some obstacle in the way.

Nervous giggles and the sheepish shuffle of feet drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up from his seat on the floor in the library's back aisles to see a small group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fourth years standing not too far from him. When they saw that they had caught his attention, they giggled again and then started a whispered small argument before a Hufflepuff girl with her light brown hair in Chinese buns was pushed forward. She didn't speak right away, but looked back at her comrades, all of them tittering again as one.

Truthfully, this was frustrating Harry immensely.

"Umm," the Hufflepuff girl said unsurely, "hi, Harry Potter." More silly laughs – he could feel his left eye twitching. From what he could gather, this was a habit that Voldemort had when annoyed as well. Which, now when he thought about it, Maia did as well. But that little tidbit of information wasn't particularly important. "We were wondering…if…you know, what they were saying…" She broke off, sighing, before blurting out, "Is what they're saying in the newspaper true about…you know…?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look, his green eyes behind his glasses wide in disbelief. _Even after all this time, they still don't believe me?!_ After all that work, nearly getting killed and his godfather dying, after having Voldemort appear right there in the Ministry of Magic, they still couldn't grasp that the Dark Lord was back! "Of course, it's true," he said slowly, making sure to enunciate each and every word. Figuring that to be the end of the conversation, he returned back to his book, surprised to find himself on human transfiguration (which was a good hundred pages beyond what he was actually supposed to read). He wasn't prepared for the excited response that the Hufflepuff girl yelled to her friends.

"Oh my God! It's true! Harry Potter is engaged to a pureblood heiress in Slytherin!"

All conversation in the library ceased even more effectively than Madame Pince's famous shushes. They turned back to him, naming names of girls in Slytherin that they knew to have money and fortune. But it was all that he could do but stare at them blankly in shock. _They're saying in the newspaper that I'm engaged to a Slytherin heiress?!_ While this did prove the complete 'objectiveness' of the magical Britain's press, he was still stunned.

"Cordelia Flemming? Pansy Parkinson? Are you mad, of course not Millicent Bulstrode! What about that dark-haired girl, you know the one that hangs out with that blue-haired guy, who's supposedly one of the richest in the country? Knight or something?"

Knowing exactly who they were talking about, he said dazedly, "Maia?" This utterance effectively caught the attention of the girls, who gave him another knowing look, before scampering off. They were so excited by this news, that they didn't even hear him call after them.

One statement said it all: _I am in serious trouble._

* * *

"Guys? Can one of you explain exactly **_why_** everyone is staring at me?"

"There's a rumor going around, Maia-"

"I haven't heard it."

"That's because everyone wants to talk about your escapade at breakfast, Blaise. Now let me talk."

"You know, I heard Dumbledore humming it in the hallways."

"I thought you wanted to know why everyone was staring at you, Maia."

"I do, but I wanted to share that tidbit of information before we moved on. Continue please?"

"Fine. The newspaper printed some story that Potter, to help with the already tense relations between the pureblood families and the muggleborns, is engaged to a Slytherin heiress."

"Now that is the biggest load of crap that I've ever heard."

"Really? How so? I thought you **_were_** going to marry him and everything."

"Blaise, I told you I was sarcastic! That doesn't say much, Theo."

"Yes, it does. They think that Potter is engaged to **_you_**."

There was a short pause before Maia smacked her head against the desk. Theo, seated next to her, patted her back comfortingly. Blaise was sitting backwards in his seat, making it easier to talk to them. Cordelia, seated ever vigilantly next to Blaise, looked at her with snobbish annoyance at the fact that it was Maia that held the blue-haired boy's attention. Seated next to Pansy in front of Blaise and Cordelia, were Draco and Pansy. Draco was looking back at her intently and Pansy was trying to catch his attention. On the other side of the room, the Gryffindors were talking amongst themselves, seeming quite angry about something and throwing suspicious looks across at the Slytherins collectively. Weasley was glaring daggers at Blaise, who wasn't paying attention.

Snape hadn't made his appearance yet. It was ten minutes into class time and some were already thinking of leaving. All who had some intelligence realized that it was better to deal with the terror now than later.

"Great," she muttered, sitting up straight once more. "I'm going to get lynched. Who gave them the idea that it was true in the first place?! The very notion itself is impossible, so how come everyone believes it?" Theo pulled at his collar nervously, looking at Blaise for guidance. Blaise just shrugged. Maia, getting more angry, folded her arms across her chest and glared. "Theo…why does everyone think this?"

"According to my sources, Potter himself said it was true."

"_What?!"_

"I told you she wouldn't take it well!" Theo accused, glowering at the still calm and collected Blaise. This admission, while true, didn't help her mood at all.

Blaise shrugged once more. "Who would? But the thing is now she knows. That's important. Now we need to think of some way to get her out of this mess."

Cordelia sniffed and Maia resisted the urge to rudely cover her ears to save herself from the high-pitched tirade she was about to hear. "I don't see why you should **_have_** to help her, Blaise. I mean, after all, she has Draco wrapped 'round her finger and she's going after that ugly runt Potter! And let's not forget that other guys have been eyeing her up. Maia's turning to a kind of _scarlet_ woman, especially now that she finds that she has a liking to those _disgusting_ _Gryffindors._"

The tall blue-haired boy gave her a long-suffering look, which Cordelia (for some reason) felt was genuine attention. "Maia is not turning into a scarlet woman, Cordelia. It's hardly her fault that Potter is spreading this rumor around."

"How do you know it's not true?" Cordelia retorted. "They say he was in **_your _**compartment on the train and no non-Slytherin is allowed there! How come he was there? Also, I heard Longbottom say that Maia was in **_his_** lap and they were snogging when he was looking for him! And Potter was sleeping in **_her _**lap when Draco found you guys." She gave a victorious smirk towards the restrained Maia, who was watching with a cool and detached expression that Theo would later say would've made her father proud.

"The problem," Maia replied smoothly, "with that is the fact that if Longbottom knew that it was Potter, why didn't he say anything? So what if Potter was there with us. I personally can't blame him." She nodded towards the still gossiping Gryffindors, all of whom seemed to be assaulting a rather flustered Harry Potter with questions. "With those vultures, who wouldn't want a change in company?"

Cordelia, who paled in annoyance, was about to respond when Snape slammed into the classroom. Literally, and the knob of the door smashed into the stone wall of the dungeons. As one, the whole class jumped. Everyone returned to their seats, Blaise turning around to sit properly.

_He's in a bad mood._ His robes were billowing much more than usual. Striding over to his desk, he slammed his hand down on the desk to grab everyone's attention – which was a bit unnecessary. "You're going to brew the Crystalis Concoction," he snarled. Yes, snarled. _He probably met with Dad or something. Dad's meetings do that to already stressed people. _"This potion turns anything it touches into ice. We went over this yesterday, so get straight to brewing. Make sure it is a weak potion, I don't want potions that freeze something to the point it'll shatter if touched." Snape glared at Longbottom (he needed Potions to be an herbologist and Sprout vouched for him until Snape gave in, just like how McGonagall pushed for Weasley and Potter) in particular over this. "You will work in pairs. Thomas, Parkinson!"

And so it went on. She could see that the professor was in pain over something. Whether physical or mental, she wasn't sure. Yes, he had probably met with her father over some matter. What though, she wasn't supposed to know. Knowledge of such things in her case was dangerous, her father advised.

"Knight, Nott!"

She let out the breath she was holding and sent a grateful grin towards Theo. When it came to theory, she was very good at Potions. That was probably how she got in this class to begin with. But the actual brewing she needed some help with. Theo was pretty good at the subject when it came to brewing (but not so much theory), so it was a good partnership.

"Longbottom!" Everyone held their breath. "Zabini!" Cordelia looked as if she were about to cry. Blaise looked unperturbed as usual and began to collect his things. Longbottom, sitting in the back and the empty chair looming a bit menacingly, looked scared. It didn't look like anyone enjoyed the arrangement.

Before he left them, he said nonchalantly, "No white lilies, I prefer roses. And I want some good eulogies." With that, he went to sit with Longbottom, who shifted his seat away from Blaise as far as he could without being at another desk.

"Potter and Malfoy, begin!"

"Please tell me he did not say that," she said fearfully to Theo, an imploring look in her eyes. "Please tell me he did not say that!"

"He did."

"**_Shit._**"

"Indeed."

As Potter passed by her desk to walk to Malfoy, she noticed he wouldn't look at her directly. Finnegan, sitting across from her, whispered loudly, "At least you picked a decent-looking one, Harry!" He was promptly the receiver of a sheep's stomach and intestine to the face. Snape, in his bad mood, took points of Gryffindor and told him to wash that mess off – there were other places to eat haggis, particularly haggis that was cooked.

Ten minutes later, one Harry Potter and one Draco Malfoy were sent to the Headmaster's office for fighting in class. In those five minutes that it took Snape to notice that there were two students trying to kill each other in his classroom, they had done a lot of damage to each other.

In between classes later in the day, Cordelia Flemming proudly proclaimed that it was because Harry Potter was trying to take away Draco Malfoy's girlfriend.

* * *

An intruder was in Gryffindor Tower. This intruder was not only incredibly intelligent and cunning, but possessed an immense amount of nerve and determination to actually do this. She was a beautiful woman that knew what she wanted and was going to get it. No and's, if's, or but's about it. There was no way that she could be stopped on her self-imposed mission and there was no doubt that she was going to be successful. She would do the impossible. She would have accomplished the unfeasible.

At least, that was what Maia Knight wanted to think of herself when she crept into the dark Gryffindor common room. But she wasn't that idealized. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf. But what had to be done, had to be done.

_Stupid Gryffindors. They just **have** to leave their homework behind._

What Maia held in her left hand (she was right handed, therefore her wand was there), was Potter's summer Charms assignment. Potter was lucky that Flitwick gave them more time to research using the Hogwarts library, but he still didn't even think that he had left in on the train. He was also lucky that Maia was…nice enough…to take it with her.

It had taken a few younger Gryffindors, some persuasion (Theo's favorite: good cop/bad cop), and some skillful memory charms to find out the exact location of Gryffindor Tower. It was two o'clock in the morning and she made it through the first leg of the operation just fine. She had gotten past the patrolling ghosts and Blaise had Filch tied up in a closet. He mentioned something about giving Peeves a few bananas to relieve his boredom. Theo would handle her alibis in the Slytherin common room.

She had waited in the shadows for the Gryffindor portrait to wander off. And she couldn't really hide her revulsion for the woman. _Things have changed since the seventeenth century, get a diet plan or something!_ All it took was a short command in parseltongue and the portrait opened for her. It was a little known fact that her father told her – the heirs of the founders could control the castle. But because Slytherin left, the spoken commands in English didn't work. The parseltongue ones did – though it always took her a bit of awhile to actually speak it.

Now why they both demanded that she do this in high-heeled black leather boots, tight black jeans, black leather jacket, and tight black tank-top were beyond her. Camouflage, they claimed. _Camouflage, my arse,_ she thought angrily as she took cautious steps further into the common room, wand ready. _Don't they know how hard it is to be 'sneaky' in high-heeled anything!_

They were her best friends and polite pureblood gentlemen, but that did not mean that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini weren't full-blooded males as well.

Stealthily, she climbed the stairs of the boys' dormitories (they just **had** to put signs on everything, really). They creaked under her feet, since she wasn't a prefect nor a member of the house, but an urgent hiss stopped them. She climbed higher and higher, keeping an eye out for any proverbial night owls and which dormitories belonged to which year. Finally, near the top, she reached 'SIXTH YEAR DORMS'.

_It's about bloody time._ She opened the door carefully, peeking in. Good, all of them had their curtains closed. Keeping low and out of the moonlight streaming in, she slid inside, closing the door quietly after her. It was easy to pick out Potter's bed – she remembered his ratty trunk from the train ride. Taking careful steps, she made it to Potter's bed, though Weasley's abrupt snort nearly gave her a heart attack. Checking the room again, she moved the curtains aside slightly and climbed onto the bed, closing them behind her again and casting a strong silencing spell.

She didn't want anyone other than Potter hearing her or finding out that she was here to begin with. _Now, to the task of waking up Potter…_

Maia jumped nearly a foot in the air when Potter's leg kicked her. _What the hell?!_ She looked at his face carefully. Yes, he was asleep, but he was thrashing about as if in pain. He was grimacing, a hand rubbing his famous scar, scratching it, as if he wanted to rip the very thing off his head. If she had any other adjective to describe his movements, he was convulsing and under a great deal of torture. Typical Gryffindor, he was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding just so he wouldn't yell out. But she could see nothing that would account for such a condition…

_He and dad have a mind link…great, Dad. You have wonderful timing! I go through all this trouble and instead of getting the usual Potter, I get you complicating things!_

Well, if he kept on going like was he was going to hurt himself. She would have to take the chance that the link would break when Potter woke. Maia cast a strong binding spell, and metal cuffs and chains held Potter's arms and legs. But he was still having that strange seizure and even her spell was having trouble holding him.None of her spells were working. _How is this possible?_ she thought, panicking slightly. _He couldn't break through this! And why isn't 'Enervate' or any other reviving spell working?! _But the spell did snap and the bindings disappeared.

_Damn you to Hell, Potter!_ She managed to pin him down and straddle him, trapping his legs between her thighs. With great difficulty, she was able to grab his arms and hold them above his head with one hand. It was a martial arts move meant to restrain, but it was one she never thought she would have to use. Most of the time, she would rely on Blaise or Theo to take care of such things. _Note to self, send note to Bradley._

With her free hand, she slapped Potter hard across the face. When he didn't come out of it, she slapped him again and again. Finally, she noticed he was awake when he wasn't moving about so much and his eyes were open and slightly unfocused.

Of course, she had slapped him one too many times to notice that part. But she really didn't care about that. What she wanted to know was why he wasn't giving her an answer to what was going on. Or at least wondering why she was here to begin with. Hopefully, that wouldn't be to far beyond the mental capacities of a Gryffindor.

He was blinking up at her, squinting, until she realized the problem. Reaching beyond the curtains and the boundary of her silencing spell, she grabbed his glasses from off the adjacent nightstand and put them on his face. When she was sure that he wasn't still suffering from whatever backlash he was going under, she let go of his arms. She lit the tip of her wand to provide a **very **dim light and placed her hands on her hips, looking down at him in frustration.

"Maia?" he questioned weakly, looking up at her in shock.

"Yes, Potter, Maia," she retorted. She wasn't in a very good mood. "It's wonderful that I risk my neck and come in on you like – Potter, are you paying attention?!" It was then that she noticed he wasn't exactly paying interest to her words, but certainly to her. His eyes traveled up and down her body, in particular, to where she was straddling him. Even in the dim light her wand was producing, she could see the blush staining his pale cheeks.

Maia slapped him. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. I came to return your homework."

"Oh." She slapped him again. Why? Because he sounded disappointed. Whether in the perverted sense or for not wanting the homework back really didn't matter to her.

* * *

"An invisibility cloak?" A low whistle. "Nice. This explains a lot."

"I'm sure it does, but it certainly doesn't explain how you got into the Gryffindor common room, much less into my bed!"

"Potter, you make it sound as if I came up there for the sole purpose of getting into your bed!"

As soon as the words flew from Maia's mouth, she smacked herself. _By Merlin, those words sounded wrong_. And from the fact that she bumped right into Potter's back when he suddenly stopped showed that he was shocked at the fact that she said that as well.

They were under Potter's invisibility cloak. After explaining that she had snuck up there to give him his missing Charms assignment, she gave him an exact description as to his state. He wasn't pleased at all and there was some yelling before she threatened to smack him again for being completely unreasonable.

Maia was now under the belief that Potter was extremely used to having people actually care about his discomfort. She was just being considerate and he was reprimanding her about privacy and sneaking into the common rooms of other houses! All that risk to give him back an assignment due in three days – enough time so he could work on it, as well as with her own notes and what could be improved (and there were a lot of those) – and he shouts at her.

The nerve! And add that to the fact that he said they were engaged? Well, she was one unhappy and pissed off witch!

Okay, he did explain to her about that whole thing when they were outside the Gryffie common room and it did sound believable when added to the fact that she knew that particular group of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls had barely had a brain the size of a pea to share between them. That still didn't excuse himself completely though. Potter evidently felt it did and was muttering something about a 'stupid ferret' under his breath.

Potter, after being told to do many things with himself that would have taken points from Slytherin if told in the presence of a professor, apologized for that whole seizure. He hadn't said much, just took the roll of parchment and got out of bed quietly. Potter just placed the assignment in his trunk and dressed himself hastily in his uniform. When he noticed her watching after she made a dry soft comment of 'nice boxers', he closed the curtains and whispered to her harshly about his privacy again. She replied back that his privacy wasn't his anymore now that she was in his bed.

He took that the wrong way. Maia knew because he wrenched open the curtains and looked at her in disbelief and shock, blushing again. She had meant it innocently and literally. She told him so and said that she felt that he had gotten enough slaps from her already, didn't he think he was pushing it?

It wasn't until later, when he pulled her up from his messy bed from where she was sitting and waiting Indian-style, that he told her that he was escorting her back to her common room. The next thing she knew, she was out of Gryffindor Tower while under an invisibility cloak, Potter's hand grasping hers both warm and firm. He claimed he wanted to make sure she did nothing to his fellow housemates.

Pity, she wanted to pay Weasley a visit. He gave her a startled – hurt? – look before she explained, again, she wasn't serious. Besides, he would know in the morning if Weasley came down completely green.

…He seemed relieved at that comment.

"Potter," she growled from where she had fallen to the floor. _Damn high-heels!_ "You have a very perverted mind. Why in the name of Circe do you keep thinking like that?!" In the minute light they had, she saw the dark shapes of Potter's arms help her up to her feet. From what Maia could see of his face, he looked contemplative and a bit annoyed.

"Listen, I don't know why, maybe its hormones or something!" He continued on before she could lash out another sarcastic comment (and it would've been a good one: _'that explains why most of the male population acts, but I'm not letting you off that easily'_) "Or maybe it's because you don't treat me like I'm glass! You're probably the only person in the world that isn't pitying me for what I went through back there!"

"Potter, your problems are your problems. I don't think you need them even further complicated involving me in them!" And there goes her shot at doing her father's task. Unless you counted the fact that Potter was paying a great deal of attention to her to begin with, just like dear ole dad wanted. "I'm not here to help you pity yourself! You get enough of that from everyone else and I certainly don't have the capacity of patience that is required to do that," she admonished. "If you have a problem, solve it! If you can't on your own, look for help and then solve it! Don't just sit there and moan about it, do something!"

Her words seemed to ring in the silence and the grip Potter had on her arms was tight, nearly painful. Potter was giving her an inscrutable look, an indecipherable one, as if he weren't quite sure that she was right in front of him yelling at him.

_Clearly, more people need to yell at him. Seriously._

"That's what I mean," he whispered loudly, indirectly hinting at her to keep her voice down as well. "You care – oh, shut up, I know you do even if you are hiding it under all that annoyance – but you aren't telling me that it's going to be alright, that I'm brave or anything. You're telling me to shut up and help myself!" He shook her lightly, which made her nearly lose her balance again. She didn't like the look in his eyes. They were shining dangerously, the emerald focused completely on her, as if she were his anchor to the world. "Why?!"

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. _Why? What kind of question was that?_ "What do you mean 'why'?" she asked back. " 'Why not' is a better thing to be asking in this case." She sighed, wondering once again why she was in this situation when she could be back in the Slytherin dormitories, sleeping in her wonderful bed and getting some sleep. But no, she had to be here having a conversation with an increasingly-unnerving Harry Potter. _It has to be Dad's bad karma passing on to me, isn't it?_ "I'm not seeing your pain, Potter," she explained, "I'm being objective. **That's** the difference."

She was relieved when the grip on her arms loosened, though she teetered precariously on those blasted shoes. "Now let's go. I've got to tell the whole house about how I got into Gryffindor Tow – oof!"

Maia was now **definitely** disturbed when Potter returned the firm hold on her arms again and pressed her up against the wall, using his own body to pin her there. He leaned in close to her, his face centimeters away from her own. She looked up at him, determined not to show that she was inwardly frightened by what he was doing nor was she concerned by his extremely close proximity. Neither of them noticed that the invisibility cloak slid off them, falling into a pile of pale silver on the stone floor. "Promise me, Maia," he said urgently, and she could feel a push of magic into her, as if he were trying to bend her will. Her father had a habit of doing this – he explained part of the theory to her – but she doubted that Potter of all people was doing this deliberately. "Promise me, you won't tell anyone! I don't want to have to Obliviate-"

"What is going on here?!" a familiar, bad-tempered voice, rang throughout the hallway. They turned at the same time to see Professor Snape, in all his snarkish glory, looking down on them in anger. In particular, his black gaze was hard on Potter. Both immediately realized they were visible, looking at their feet to see the cloak on the floor. Potter, in his shock, let go of her arms.

Yes, the high-heels failed her. This was Potter's fault – he slammed her against the wall. She didn't have the necessary time to find her balance.

As soon as she let go, she wobbled on her feet. Instinctively, she grabbed the nearest thing to keep herself upright. The unfortunate part of this was that the nearest thing happened to be one Harry Potter. She fell right into his arms, desperately clinging to his neck while he grabbed her waist to help her.

This did not look good.

_It has to be the bad karma._

* * *

_A few hours later…before breakfast in a deserted hallway that happened to be the sight of a very interesting event a few hours prior…yeah, deserted hallway…  
_

"You're the only one I could go to for help. I can't go to Blaise – he's just odd. And definitely not Theo – he's just plain difficult. It's just that…ugh! I need help! You're her best friend, you know her just as well as Blaise and Theo. Please help me!"

"Okay, okay! My, she really has a hold on you, doesn't she?!"

"If you're going to mock me, I'll just Obliviate you and-"

"Now, now, calm down tiger! Put that wand down and let's talk. I said I'll help you and I will. You just have to remember that I'm step below my brother when it comes to difficulty, my dear Malfoy."

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"The best thing that could get you on the fast track to Maia's heart, that's what. Just trust me on this, Draco!"

"I think I'm beginning to regret this."

"Too late, buddy-boy."

This deserted hallway, if it could talk, had seen a great deal of interesting things in its existence. From the time that Rowena Ravenclaw had lost control of her Animagus transformation into a hawk and thus had to be chased down the corridors of Hogwarts by a very angry Salazar Slytherin (the woman had been shrieking and flapping her arms like wings at the time), to the time where an intrepid and forward-thinking young man by the name of Sirius Black accidentally cut a hole in the fabric of time and space into another universe and thus becoming by proxy the inventor of a strongest form of firewhiskey to ever exist. Sirius Black thus drank the alcohol (the entire bottle), at the ripe age of eleven, and never quite recovered from the easy-going and joking inebriation it produced, to the dismay of both school faculty and family.

Just the night before it had witnessed a scene between the savior of the wizarding world, the daughter of the Dark Lord, and a very angry and pissed off Potions professor. And the drama didn't get better than that.

Draco Malfoy was in a right state, having stayed all night waiting for one Maia Knight to return to the common room after he saw her sneak out before curfew. After his patrol, he came back fully intending to ask her out to the next Hogsmeade outing, but found only a sarcastic Theodore Nott being exceedingly difficult about her whereabouts. Though Nott had claimed that Maia went to sleep early, he had Pansy's word that Maia wasn't there. His suspicions were confirmed when she helped him up to his own bed at three-thirty in the morning, since he spent nearly the whole night crashed on a couch.

Rubbing his stiff neck, he thanked Merlin that it was a weekend. And he couldn't help but notice Maia's attire, even in his half-asleep state. Maia had that kind of effect on him.

Of course, he didn't look like he had. He made sure that he didn't. Nope, he still looked like he always had – impeccably good. His robes as impressive and expensive as ever, his shoes polished, and his uniform in perfect order. His face showed no gray shadows under his gray eyes and his hair was slicked back as it usually was. No, he looked like he normally had, even though he was forced to sleep on what he now thought of as an uncomfortable couch most of the night, waiting for his lady love.

She was out practically the entire night! And she was obviously with someone! And if he could guess out of the entire population of Hogwarts, then it was with that scrawny idiotic prick Harry Potter. Potter was already spreading around that he and Maia were engaged, who knew what that black-haired dork was trying to do!

Maybe, just maybe, Potter was trying to seduce her last night! And lured her out of the safety of the Slytherins to do who knows what until Professor Snape or Filch interrupted! While he was now quite grateful for the actions of the two most hated men in all of Hogwarts, he was still not in a good mood. If his theory was true, then Potter was trying to steal **_his_** girl!

And no Malfoy would lose out to his rival! Maia was the perfect woman for him, absolutely perfect, and he would not allow Potter to ruin both his future happiness with Maia and the purity of blood that the Slytherin line possessed. It was unheard of and disgraceful!

He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, would not stand for it!

Which was why he was now groveling at the feet (no, not literally, for Malfoys _never_ grovel at the feet of anyone except the Dark Lord himself) of the pixie-like Amarantha Stephania Nott, the blonde and popular sister of the very boy who was covering for Potter's transgression against him!

Yes…Theo and Blaise would have to be dealt with later. Though in a way that didn't get Maia angry with him. He heard she wasn't too happy with the whole fight in Potions. Draco couldn't bring himself to get too worked up about it – Maia was a lady of one of the highest standards, of course she wouldn't want fighting in her presence like that. But he was defending her and his right to be the man in her life, so he felt he was otherwise justified.

_Maia Malfoy, I like that a lot._ It would take a lot of cunning to win her over. Maia was that kind of woman. But he always enjoyed a challenge.

Steph Nott was Maia's best friend and thus, a well of information on the very girl he was interested in. Add in the fact that the girl was Hogwarts' most accomplished gossip-collector and matchmaker. With **_this_** Nott on his side, he doubted Potter had the chance. Of course, there was the fact that this was a **_Nott_**. That made everything a bit more difficult.

The shorter girl looked to be pondering something before she snapped her fingers. "I've got it! Okay Draco, what does advantages does Potter have over you?"

Draco snorted in disbelief. "Nothing. Which is why I don't see how Maia can be going along with him." He thought he saw mischievous amusement playing behind those blue eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

"No, there is," she prattled on. "If you go on terms on looks, then you do win. But there's something you don't count – approachability. And Potter beats you in that."

"_What?_"

"Draco, you look_ perfect._"

"Thank you. Now, how could Potter beat me if I look better than he does?!"

"Because you're _perfect_, Draco! You look like you spend hours in front of a mirror. And if Theo's right, then you do. You're like a statue or painting that is beautiful, but no one feels that they have a chance with." The girl sighed, seeming to go off in her own world, a Potter-filled world, which made Draco both uncomfortable and disgusted. "He has those hands, rough and tough from hard work and Quidditch. That messy black hair that you just want to run your fingers through. Then there are those _wonderful _green eyes that you could just drown in…"

"Nott. Back to me, here."

"Oh, yes, right. Excuse me. Lost in Potter-fantasies there."

"You have _fantasies_ about _Potter_?"

"What girl in Hogwarts **_hasn't_**? He does have a rather fine arse – not the finest, but quite fine. But moving on. I'm sure you don't want to hear about them-"

"You've got that right."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Right. Now we're going to give you a makeover – shut up, let me finish! We're going to make you much more approachable and less like a pampered rich pansy." He opened his mouth to complain, but Steph cut him off by dragging him to where she wanted to go. "Don't worry, you're in my hands!"

"So, who **_does _**have the greatest arse in Hogwarts? Me?"

"Good heavens, no. That honor belongs solely to Professor Snape."

Draco gagged on whatever words he was about to say.

* * *

It's been awhile, but I hope you liked this chapter (22 pages). More Harry/Maia interaction, just like you asked. And if you're wondering why she's so frustrated lately - can you blame her? You get all these girls cursing your existence for attracting the eye of Draco Malfoy, a guy you're not even remotely interested in, while being the exact opposite of what they guy you're supposed to be attracting is supposed like!

Really, she has the right to be angry here. And if she seems a bit too extreme, well she's the Dark Lord's daughter.

As for Harry's behavior, we don't get too much from his point of view. He's still suffering from Sirius' death and everyone around him is being extra careful around him. Harry's desperately looking for something more than pity - which is why is attaching himself to Maia. She doesn't put up with that, like any Slytherin wouldn't.

By the way, Snape is not extraordinarily handsome in this story. He's just how he's described in the book. This is a mild jab at the Snape-fangirls and how he would react to the fact that he has a fan-following and is admired for more than his smarts. Nothing more than that.

I won't say what will happen in the next chapter - I have to wait for my _Dark_ muse to come up with some new inspiration for that.

_Elemental Sight_ and _Elemental Malice_are up, if you want to take a look.

---Raven


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